


So Doggone Lucky

by AspenTree0228



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Deception, Dogs, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Marine!Lexa, Mentions of PTSD, Mentions of alcoholism, Military Backstory, Mom!Clarke, Multichapter, Original Character Death(s), farm life, mentions of bullying, mentions of previous abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-10-11 06:36:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 49,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10457685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AspenTree0228/pseuds/AspenTree0228
Summary: When Staff Sergeant Lexa Woods comes back from an oversea deployment that ended in physical and emotional trauma, she sets out on a journey to find her so-called fate with her buddy Hades, a German Shepherd.She winds up on a dog boarding farm, owned by Clarke Griffin, a divorcee and young mother, who is mourning the death of her brother.They find solace and comfort in each other, while their complicated backstories test their faith in fate.(If you haven't guessed already, it's 'The Lucky One' movie adaptation that nobody asked for)





	1. Prologue    It's nothing romantic

**Author's Note:**

> I was coerced into watching The Lucky One with my straight best friend™, and of course my mind wanders -- this could be an awesome story with wlw characters. 
> 
> Full disclosure:  
> My limited knowledge about the Marine Corps came from my dad (army 20 years ago so...) and the internet.  
> The overall plot follows the movie, some borrowed lines, but with lots of additional scenes, conversations, interactions, sins...  
> No beta, no intention to claim ownership over the story or characters, I own nothing but all mistakes.

It’s nothing romantic

 

Febuary 4 th , 10:57 p.m. 2014

“Uncle Titus, 

 

My troop departed Camp Pendleton yesterday, and we are en route to Baghdad region to begin a nine-month deployment. 

My faith in my country and my loyalty to the leaders have been tested and have endured. I have survived and proven to be courageous. Father would have been pleased to know that I honored his wishes and expectations. 

I hope Aunt Nia and the kids are well.

May we meet again. 

 

Lexa” 

 

 

June 26 th , 2:18 a.m. 2014

“Sergeant Woods! We’ve been ambushed! I’m pulling back!” Sergeant Ryder cries out by the end of a clumped corridor in an abandoned office building. The headlights on his helmet, bouncing off the walls, light up his grimaced face at the metallic taste of blood in the dusty air. He pulls back from the line of fire. 

“Commander, they got women and children hostages!”

“Two children in the far east room!” 

“Ma’am, Sergeant Forrest’s bird just touched down.”PFC Lincoln Riverson, an intimidating-looking young man built of muscles stacked on muscles, runs up from the ground floor, all sweaty and labored breaths, reports to the commanding officer.

“’bout fucking time. Anya, get your ass down on second floor!” Staff Sergeant Lexa Woods ducks behind the corner of the staircases and spares a second to confirm that backup has arrived. “We got screwed over by the fucking intel, new priority’s to evacuate the hostage.” She nods towards the room where they temporarily hid the children. 

“Roger that.” Riverson grips tighter to the thermal camera and inches forward to the other side of the building where their technology shows the terrorists are holing up. 

“Commander, permission to blow shit up at south east entrance?” Explosive Specialist Raven Reyes comes in on the radio. 

Lexa quickly assesses the situation. She’s got hostiles with hostages on the east upper level, and commotions from the north entrance. Anya’s Marines are descending down from the balcony, the quickest evacuation route might be the one that they’ve originally planned to blow up to encircle the fleeing hostiles. “Negative, Reyes, leave it clear.” 

“Yes ma’am.” Raven does not sound happy about the newest development, always eager to make a hole in the wall. 

After hearing the noise of glasses breaking, then followed by the rapid onslaught of M14s, Lexa knows Anya has come through. She searches for a clip on the ammo pouch, swiftly reloading her beloved M9. Rounding the corner, she immediately recognizes the back of her best friend’s head, “Anya, I’ve got your six.” 

“Prepare for impact, Woods. Gordon, Wilde, and you, Bucky blondie, we’re rolling out.” Master Sergeant Anya Forrest leads three of her subordinates to round the last corner that separated themselves from the direct line of fire. 

“C’mon, Bucky blondie? Seriously?” Before the Sergeant can finish his sentence, sounds of flying shrapnels cut him off. 

The smell of gun powder permeates the perpetually dusty air, the fast paced sequences of red and yellow flashes are the only visible light source. But despite of the disorienting darkness, the Staff Sergeant’s eyes catch the bullets soaring in a way that is almost slow-motion, and piercing through the Master Sergeant’s body. Upon impact, the woman’s torso bends into a strange angle that is definitely not humanly possible. 

“NO!!!” She forgets to blink, forgets to breathe, forgets the heated dust burning her eyes and lungs, and forgets about the searing pain in her shoulder where she most certainly got hit but hasn’t had the time to check it. 

“Man down, man down. Secure the corridor, we’re pulling out.” The blonde haired Sergeant holds his ground, and barks some orders through his intercom. “Sergeant Woods, we got a window to evacuate the kids, I’ll cover you.” 

Lexa seizes the opportunity without hesitation, she quickly gestures the Marines following her to pass through the corridor. “It’s you and I now, Bucky.” She points her weapon at the shadowy figures that are shooting at them, and fires several rounds until they momentarily cease fire. “We need to get the fuck outta here. I think Anya’s still alive.” Lexa rolls her friend onto her back, and hoists her up from the ground. When she looks back to the Sergeant, she freezes mid-sentence. 

There is a gaping hole in the side of his neck, blood squirting out under the pressure of his hand, he is leaning against the wall, and the darkness pooling from two other bullet wounds on his chest and stomach has thoroughly drenched his uniform. 

The terrorists recover too soon, and start firing again. 

“Looks like it’s just me now, ma’am.” He gives her the saddest smile, while pulling out a hand grenade. 

“You put that back right now, Sergeant, and that’s an order.” Lexa screams after him as he starts a sprint towards the scurrying figures at the other end of the hallway. 

“It’s now or never, ma’am.” 

Hot tears streaming down her face, one minute Lexa is holding up Anya’s lifeless body in her arms, the next minute, she feels herself being thrown down the floor by a powerful blast. Her world flips upside down before it all goes black. 

 

 

June 26 th , 11:32 a.m. 2014

Staff Sergeant Lexa Woods sits in front of the remnants of the building. The medical triage unit has cleaned out her wounds and moved on down the priority list. She is glad that they got to Anya in time to patch her up and send her on a chopper going straight back to base. 

The desert sun is poisonous, though it doesn’t really bother her. She is in an entirely different frame of thoughts. She looks down at her palm, where it lays Sergeant Terrence Ryder’s dog tag, and she knows they’ve lost too many. She tears her gaze momentarily away from the object to watch the half dozen children rescued from the site, and contemplates about how the newspapers are going to glamorize this encounter as a victory. She feels everything but victorious. 

Suddenly, a shiny object in the corner of her eyes catches her attention. Her curiosity, and perhaps the manipulation of a greater power above, drag her beaten body up to investigate. 

It lies quietly in the rubble, and Lexa hisses as she bends over to pick it up, the sutures on her bicep fortunately withhold the motion. 

Then she takes a closer look at it. 

A photo. She brushes away the dust on its surface with her thumb gently. A young women’s faceis slowly revealed. She has blonde hair and an easy smile, her eyes almost squeezed shut but Lexa still manages to distinguish the color—blue as the sky on a cloudless day. On the back of the photo, scribbled an endearing sentence that read “Be safe, xoxo”. 

Just when she is about to carefully tuck it in her pocket, some commotions erupt by the makeshift triage clinic that pull her attention away. 

“Anisa (Miss)! Anisa, bak’ya (Miss, stop)! Somebody stop her!” A nurse in navy scrub notices one of the women hostage they found under the rubble, who has been drifting in and out of consciousness, rolls down the stretcher and drags her broken body to what used to be the entrance of the building. Her face is muddy and tear-streaked, and her screams are like chalk scratching on blackboard as she digs at the concrete remnants, “Wa-ladi (my boy)! Abany (son)!” 

Lexa scrambles to her feet at the sight, as another figure also starts a sprint to retrieve the woman. “Pull her out of there! EOD hasn’t cleared—”

BOOM— 

The powerful wave of explosion sweeps her up from her feet, tossing her ten yards away. Her body rolls on the ground like an abandoned rag doll. Darkness, chaos, panic, and the texture of trickling blood on her forehead wrap around her senses like a wooly old rug. Lexa tightens her hold on the photo in her hand desperately as the last of her consciousness slips away. 

 

 

July 2 nd 2014

The first person she sees when she comes to is the Captain, a man with gentle brown eyes and salt and pepper on both sides of his temple.

“Welcome back, Woods,” Captain Marcus Kane greets her with deep yet soft voice, and put a ziplock bag, containing a picture and Sergeant Ryder’s dog tag, on the nightstand next to her bed, “the medics found this in your hand. We did our best to salvage it, but the blood wouldn’t come off, sorry.” 

“It… it’s not mine, sir.” Nevertheless, Lexa picks it up and cradles it in her good hand, re-reading the words on the back, “it must be important to someone. I’d like to return it to the person who lost it.” 

Kane nods in approval, “well, that might be a little difficult to achieve. You’re one of the last few left to be transferred back, we have to wait for your vitals to stabilize.” 

“Captain, Anya—Master Sergeant Forrest…” 

Kane puts his hand on her shoulder to ease her agitation, “Anya will be alright. She’s already back in the States. It’s Reyes that I’m more worried about.” 

“Raven? Is she—”

“Alive and stable for now, but the shrapnel in her spine is giving the doctors a hard time. She might very likely lose function from waist down.” 

Lexa clenches her jaw, the lump in her throat suddenly becoming suffocating. Raven was the quickest to react when the Iraqi woman approached the building entrance, Raven was the one who ran towards danger when others froze. But it should have been her, Lexa mourns, it was her order, it should have been her. 

The Captain clears his throat, lifting his hand and patting her on the shoulder empathetically, “good luck with that,” he gestures at the picture now laying quietly, abandoned, in her lap, “chances are, the owner has already gone home to their loved ones.” _Injured, disabled, or, dead._ He leaves the last part unsaid. 

 

 

July 20 th 2014

_“Lexa, you need to stop punishing yourself.”_ Anya’s words are accompanied by her labored breathing, indicating she is in the middle of her rehab, _“just come home already.”_

“I’m not punishing myself. They are in more critical condition than I am, they need complicated procedures just like you did.” Lexa insists. She just missed yet another flight home, having given up her spot to a fellow Marine, a father of three, who is in need of an emergency amputation revision. 

_“Lexa—”_

“Anya I’ll talk you later ok? I need to pack, the troops are on the move.” Lexa disconnects the call before Anya can ask more questions about where and why they are moving. Her hand hovers on the picture that sits on top of her neatly folded clothes in her luggage, before picking it up and tucking it in her pocket, for safe keeping, she tells herself. 

PFC Lincoln Riverson is one of the few people that has yet to evacuate. He is silently organizing his weapons, observing her in the mean time. They’ve been working together for a few months now, but never found the necessity for pleasantries since the both of them prefer silence to chatter, and they only grew close recently because they are kind of stuck together. “Is that your guardian angel, Commander?” Since when that he also began to use the nickname her platoon came up with a while back now? 

“She’s not mine, Lincoln.” Lexa smiles, shaking her head, “do you believe in guardian angels?” 

“This one right here,” he fishes out a picture from the front pocket of his jacket, “her name’s Octavia. We met in college, she just graduated, and I’m visiting her hometown soon.” His grin is so big when he carefully places the picture back into his pocket, right over his heart. 

“Oh, Wisconsin?” She vaguely remembers him telling her about UW-Madison and the football games the city of Madison is so renowned for. 

“Yup, TonDC. Tiny town, really close to Madison actually. I can’t believe I’ve never been to her house, well, I was so nervous I’d screw it up when I meet her big brother and her mother, but… I’ve actually seen her brother, he’s a pretty cool guy. I don’t know what I was nervous about…” 

“Lincoln, you’re rambling.” Lexa smirks at his flustered face. She is intrigued by the way his cheeks redden and eyes brighten at the mention of his girlfriend, it is almost like a love-sick puppy kind of devotion. Has he had a tail, Lexa muses, it would’ve been wagging too. It is such a silly thing, that a woman can bring out all the giddiness in this mountain of a man, but all the same beautiful. 

Soon enough, their delightful conversation is interrupted. Private Dax pokes his head into her quarter, “Sarge, the car’s ready.” 

It takes her a second to acknowledge him, because she despises the disrespectful nickname. “Alright, thank you, Marine. You’re dismissed.” 

Unsuccessful in his attempt to spite her, Dax and his bruised patriarchal ego grumbles something under his breath before seeing himself out. 

“Sergeant Woods, would you join me for the ride? I’d like your input on a subject matter.” Captain Kane motions Lexa over once they are outside. He has always been kind to her, and it is not just because he was close friends with her late father, Colonel Gustus Woods. Kane knows that Lexa is special, gifted, more than fit for this job. A Staff Sergeant normally takes an enlisted Marine eight to ten years of experience for appointment, it took Lexa six. It is not easy, either, being a woman, a very young woman, in the Marine Corps, watched by too many pairs of prying eyes out of curiosity, suspicion, animosity, and sometimes malice. She has been through events that the bravest of man can’t endure, and people thought she’d crumble. But Lexa Woods rose above it all, and she grew, sprung up like some sort of stubborn pine tree, the harsher the winter, the taller its crown. He’d sworn to Colonel Gustus Woods’ gravestone, to always look out for his daughter, yet, it seems that she doesn’t need any looking out for after all. 

Their vehicles form a line as they drive through the abandoned city, the only sounds heard being tires rolling over gravel. Lexa solemnly watches the backing scenery. Each corner they round, she can see the liveliness that it once contained, and she imagines what it had been, a bookstore maybe, a grocery shop, someone’s home. People don’t think about it often, not when they are busy staying alive, but the truth is, what they are doing to this country in the name of the greater good, is also what destroys it. She, herself, being a part of this destructive force, is responsible for someone else’s homelessness, someone else’s pain, someone else’s death. Then she remembers the devastated mother, the way she dragged her broken body in search of her son, her screams, her nails bloody by the digging, and at last, the explosion that completely tore her apart, arms and legs and bits and pieces. Lexa bites the inside of her cheek to force the image out of her mind. She won’t dwell on it, she can’t. 

Kane casts a glance at the Staff Sergeant as she shakes herself out of the trance. He knows, sort of, what Lexa is thinking about when she gets quiet and pensive like this. They have had long, contemplative conversations about how following orders doesn’t always mean following what’s right in their heart, and about being able to resolve the cognitive dissonance doing what has to be done for the sake of international concern and feeling what she feels on a personal level. He is just about to say something, the vehicle comes to a sudden halt, causing them to tip forward slightly. 

“Why are we stopping?” Lexa cranes her neck to see to the front. She sees that they have arrived at a small bridge, the river beneath them is dry, the ground crusty and barren. 

The Marine driving explains, “there’s a civ truck parked in front of us.” 

From the cargo truck in front of theirs, Lexa sees Dax, the Private from earlier today, jump out of the truck to investigate. “Goddamn it,” she also pops open her side of the door, “go back into your vehicle, Private!” 

“I’m just checking, ma’am.” 

“Stand down, Marine. You do not know the situation!” She feels for her weapon, ready for the consequences of his idiocy. Then she motions the cargo truck driver, “we should back out and take a detour.” 

Dax is already inching towards the parked car. He rounds to the driver’s side, and peeps in. “Sir, I’ll need you to move this car.” He knocks on the window when he sees the figure sitting in the passenger’s seat. 

Lexa is watching the exchange keenly, an unexplainable sense of trepidation tugs at the hair on the back of her neck, goosebumps rippling over her skin. 

Then he sees something, and his body goes very still, like a ghost has run through it. 

Something is about to happen, she knows. 

In the blink of an eyes, a gigantic ball of flame implodes from inside the car, accompanied with a deafening roar of metal snapping apart. It continues to expand, like a blooming flower, morbidly beautiful, all-consuming, deadly. 

People talk about near-death experiences in a way that makes it seem romantic, your entire life flashes before your eyes, and you see the ones that matter the most to you. 

Liars. 

Nothing about this is romantic. What Lexa sees unveil before her very own eyes, is an absolute atrocity. 

It is nothing but destruction, a spiral of dust and smoke envelopes the entirety of her being, tendrils of fire lick at her exposed skin, sounds of metal bending and rubbing screech in her ears, and glasses stab into her thigh. In the midst of it all, she remembers that there is something important that she is supposed to keep safe, her hand naturally comes to clutch tightly onto her chest pocket. 

People are right about one thing, time does slow down when you’re suffering. 

_“We need medical back-up on west border line 7 miles to the dam, man down man down!”_

_“Get a chopper ready, we’re losing her!”_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have enough chapters written out to update every week, after that it will be every other week. Idk, depends on what you want.


	2. A long way home

A long way home

 

October 30 th 2014

For the first time in over six months, Lexa feels her feet touch the soil of this strangely familiar land where she lived for over ten years in her childhood. The streets are quiet, and the morning sunlight is soft, palm trees stand with perfectly measured distances in between, guarding the houses with bright colored rooftops. 

She made a mistake not taking a cab, or this Uber thing that apparently everybody uses nowadays to get around. The old wound in her leg is throbbing after walking from the bus stop to the neighborhood. It doesn’t concern her too much, she passed physical therapy after all. 

As she approaches the yard of this one particular house with an obnoxious orange door, she sees two kids playing in the garden. Before she can even open her mouth to call their names, a German shepherd, giant comparing to the children, leaps out of the fence that separates the front yard and back yard, charging at full speed toward where she stands. 

“Hades!” Lexa greets him with equal excitement, kneeling down to wrap her arms around his strong neck and threading her fingers in his coarse fur. 

Hades barks and grunts, whimpers and yelps, as if he tries to speak in a language that can convey his love and devotion to his human, and at the same time chastise her for being away for so long. 

“Alexandria, my dear niece.” 

She looks up from the embrace. There stands Titus, and soon Nia joins him. They have a forced smile on their faces. “I see you’ve come back to retrieve your dog.” 

Sighing because she hates to do this, asking favors from people that clearly are stingy in giving such, Lexa struggles a little to stand up, “actually, I am hoping that I can stay with you for a little while… just till I get my benefits and paperwork signed off.” 

 

November 11 th 2014

There is the sound of a huge explosion in the living room, causing Lexa to almost drop the plate in her hand. It takes her a fraction of a second to react, hands automatically searching for the M9 that is no longer strapped against her thigh. 

The two children pay no attention to her, continuing with their combative video game while shoving at each other.

Titus screws up his brows observing his niece. “Alexandria, a word?” He nods toward his study, trusting his niece to trail behind him like a little duckling. 

“Sorry, uncle Titus,” Lexa starts before he opens his mouth because she knows what he is about to say, “I’m just a bit sensitive to loud noises.” 

He sighs, smoothing his hand over his bald head, “You aunt Nia is a very opinionated woman, Alexandria, and it’s not like she doesn’t like you, it’s just that she has her own concerns.”

“Concerns about what?” 

“That your behaviors are having negative impacts on Ontari and Craig. They’re sensitive children, and they might think that they’ve done something wrong.” 

It would be inappropriate to scoff at his words, Lexa bites the inside of her cheek, anger and annoyance bubbling in the pit of her stomach. _Sensitive my ass_. Just two days ago, over dinner, the kids were shoving at each other, whispering “you ask her”, “you do it”, “just ask her” amongst themselves, until Ontari inquired about when Lexa was going to move out so she can have her room back. “Uncle Titus, with all due respect, I don’t think it’s fair for her to say—”

“Are you seeing a shrink, Alexandria?” 

“What?” 

“The Marine Corps can provide you some help, like through VA’s hospitals.” He digs through some booklets that he has collected over the course of her stay, and then snatches down the sticky notes he posted with numbers of counselors and psychiatrists. “I think it might be best for you to seek professional help, instead of… you know… staying with us and doing nothing.” 

Lexa shoots up one eyebrow in disbelief. _Doing nothing? Is he fucking serious?_ She has been tidying the garage, fixing pipes and everything broken by the children, doing chores, and putting up with the little demons that reside in this house for two weeks, she kind of earned her stay, and he still has the audacity to accuse her for being a lazy ass. “I don’t need ‘professional help’, Uncle Titus, if you want to get rid of me, you can just say so.” 

“Alexandria, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

Maybe he didn’t, but she knows Nia and that poisonous mouth of hers meant every single word of it, Titus is just her puppet. “It’s fine, I’ll leave by the end of this week.” 

 

November 12 th 2014

She has been packing all morning, and arranging her stay with Anya, who moved into a small apartment near the VA rehab center for convenience as she is taking care of Raven. The two of them really have to work on their subtlety if they are really trying to keep their mutual pining on the down low. She has taken her last prescription pill for her leg pain and feels terribly drowsy, so she rests her cheek against the lumpy luggage, the fan on the ceiling blowing wind on her eyelashes, it tickles, so she closes her eyes too. Before she knows it, she is drifting off into a troubled dreamland. 

_Helicopters whirl over her head, broken glasses crunch under her boots, and bullets fly by her ears. She takes cover behind a short wall._

Ontari and Craig steal into the room. “Why is she sleeping? She’s supposed to move out of my room today!” 

_They have almost surrounded the terrorists, and the diversion the snipers created gives her the opportunity to slip pass the last defense of the enemies. Sometimes they are more valuable alive than dead, which is the reason that she is trained for any form of close combat should the occasion arise._

“Wake her up then.” Craig suggests, tugging at the luggage underneath Lexa’s head, then he waves his hand in and out of the woman’s face, receiving no response. 

_She inches closer, while raising her hand behind her to gesture her teammates to seize fire momentarily to provide a window, just a few seconds, that allow her to subdue the culprit._

Ontari pokes Lexa’s side, who jerks slightly from the assault. “You wake her.” She orders Craig. 

“No you do it!” 

_She sees her chance, and hurdles herself over the short wall, pouncing on top of the hostile. He brings the butt of his assault rifle in the air, which she dodges easily._

“You do it!” 

“Fine!” Craig relents. He climbs up from the other side of the bed, and stands with his feet on either side of Lexa. His claws in the air, and body bent, ready to jump scare the sleeping marine officer. 

_He is still clutching at his rifle, pushing her off his body. She lands on her back, but quickly recovers by kicking the weapon out of his grip. He doesn’t bother to pick it up again, instead, he charges forward, his shadow looming over her, his hands raised in the air. She knows what is coming, she knows he’ll try to choke her, so she balls up her fist to aim at his jaw._

Craig bounces a couple of times on top of Lexa before crashing into her with half of his body weight, his hands gripping at her shoulder tightly. 

_She feels it, the burning iron grip on her shoulder. She twists her trunk to escape the surprisingly light hold. Her hand finds his shoulder and her forearm digs into the vulnerable, exposed throat. She expects a deep grunt, or a wheezing moan as air leaves his lungs. What she doesn’t expect, is the shriek of a child._

“Mom——!!!!! Help!!!!” 

Faces. Bloody, twisted, painful faces of those she killed, of those she saved, of terrorists, and of women, children, innocent citizens morph together in front of Lexa’s eyes. She blinks hard, to force the morbid red away, till tears stream hot on her cheeks. Then through it all, she sees Craig’s helpless little body under her headlock, and his nails sinking into her skin. 

She briskly lets go of the boy, watching in horror as he rolls over holding his throat, already wearing bruises on his neck. “I’m so sorry, I am so, so sorry, Craig—”

“YOU CRAZY BITCH, STAY AWAY FROM MY CHILDREN!” In comes Nia in a frenzied fit, she scrambles across the room to pull Ontari and Craig into her bosom. 

“Nia, I swear it is an accident! I’m so sorry. I—I was asleep, and I didn’t know what happened, I…” 

“Get. Out. Of. My. House!” Nia spits at Lexa, voiced deprived of sympathy but filled with hatred “that is the last straw. I’ll call the cops if you come ten feet near my family!” 

“I’ll go. I’ll go. I’m really sorry for what happened.” Lexa gingerly scoots over to the other side of the bed, picking up her duffle bag and watching the other woman out of the corner of her eyes. Once Nia follows her out making sure she didn’t steal any of their valuables, Hades emerges from the garage as well, sensing something wrong in the air, so he stands next to Lexa’s feet, protective of his human. Nia opens her mouth and is about to yell more, but with a glance to the dog, she reluctantly clenches her jaw and mutters, “yeah, take your filthy devil of a dog with you too.” 

It doesn’t hurt, Nia’s atrocious words, the children’s ungrateful brattiness, Titus’ pathetic cowardice, or her predictable misfortune. She knows from the beginning, this is never going to be her home. 

 

 

January 3 rd 2015

Co-existing with Anya is an easy routine thing. They were in the same battalion when Lexa was fresh out of bootcamp, and Anya on her second tour. They for more than enough times shared personal space holing up in caves and sleeping in trucks together. So spending Thanksgiving, and Christmas, and New Years Eve together, isn’t up for discussion at all.

Now after a month and half, it is a still strange thing to get used to, Anya being domestic and tender when she is out of her uniform and around Raven. Lexa has to admit, they are pretty cute together. Anya drives Raven to rehab everyday, then bartends at a local pub owned by a veteran every night. Their life is nothing of grand luxury, but comfortable, and mundane, and normal. 

Lexa finds herself, at rare moments, jealous of what Anya and Raven have. 

She is staring at her laptop for about an hour now, her heart fluttering wildly. The lighthouse that popped up on her search matches the lighthouse in the picture behind the blonde woman, and it is located in a small town called Arkadia in Wisconsin. 

Raven strolls out of Anya’s room into the living room, glowing happily. She is walking almost like her old self now, with her left leg in the supportive brace. She then plops herself up at the counter of the kitchenette. “Yo Commander, whatchu lookin’ at?” 

“Lighthouses. Listen, Raven, I was going to talk to—”

“What’s up, loser!” Anya also emerges from her room, with a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. She eases herself into the small gap between the counter and the fridge, arms sneaking around Raven’s waist, and whispers, “hey babe.” 

Lexa doesn’t have to guess what they were up to, and she is not nearly as traumatized by the time she walked in on her blonde friend knuckles deep inside the other girl and face buried between her legs. A small smile finds its way to her lips as she looks at her friends. “Actually, Raven, Anya, I want to talk to you about something.” 

“Oh no, are you breaking up with us?” Raven teases, “I will fight you for Hades’ custody!” 

Lexa shakes her head in amusement, “I am and always will be Hades’ lawful guardian. Anyways, actually, I really want to thank you for your hospitality, putting a roof on top of my head and all.” 

“Oh don’t be coy, Lexa. Mi casa su casa. Your uncle and aunt are just assholes, anyone else would’ve done that in a heartbeat.” Anya opens up the fridge for some beer, and tosses one to where Lexa is sitting. 

“Appreciate it. However, I think I should get my butt moving before I overstay my welcome.”

“Pffs, nonsense.” Raven flicks her wrist in dismissal, “you’re fam, Lexa, we went through hell and back together, I think it’s pretty much implied in our deployment statement. Plus, my birthday’s in like two weeks, how rude of you to take off before buying me a gift!” 

“I’ll stay till February.” It isn’t like she has a tight schedule to follow or anything, so she budges. 

“What is it really about, Lex? Got somewhere better to be? Maybe some secret lady love?” Anya makes some kissing noise. 

Lexa suppresses the urge to flip her off, instead, she confesses about the photo, and that she has found a lead on the woman’s whereabout. “Something to keep my head occupied might be good for me, at least that’s what the shrink said.” 

“So what do you plan on doing, say if you actually find this woman?” 

“ _When_ I find her.” Lexa corrects, “I dunno, thank her, I guess. Fate did bring her to me, and it’s constantly reminded me of things other than war and death, things that are good.” 

“You never believed in ‘fate’, Lexa,” Anya holds up her hands to do an air quote, “I’m not attacking you for changing your mind, but what gives?” 

Taking a sip from her beer, Lexa just gives her friend a shrug. “Well, a little brush with death may have put my views into perspective. I grew up non-religious, you know, and it’s probably a little late to go back on that, but I can see how it’d be nice to believe in something, however trivial or minute, it gets you through the day.” 

“I feel ya.” Raven raises her beer, and Anya nods. They share the drink in comfortable silence, a sullen mutual understanding finds roots in unspoken words, empty beer bottles, and chilly night air. 

Lexa watches silently, as Raven and Anya move around each other in the small kitchen with the most routinely fluidity, with a small smile despite the light pang in her chest and the lingering bittersweet taste on her tongue. 

They have a lovely home, it just isn’t hers. 

 

 

May 11 th 2015

Lincoln reached out to Lexa when he heard she’d be coming up to Wisconsin. Octavia has found a job in downtown Madison, so he also found small gigs here and there to contribute. Lexa however, kindly declined his invitation to stay with them. Weeks of third wheeling for Raven and Anya is too much time sitting in silent sexual tension knowing she is the reason those two haven’t started going at it on the kitchen counter. To witness another one of her coworkers like that, no thank you. But she did agree to have a drink at the place Lincoln works as a security guard in a pool bar. 

“When you told me about coming up here, I was expecting much earlier.” He gives her a toothy grin and holds out a stool for the petite brunette girl in his arm, “Octavia, Sergeant Lexa Woods, _the_ ‘Commander’.” He introduces them, and motions the bartender to fill them up.

Lexa savors the sweet aftertaste of the Wisconsin brew for a minute before answering his silent question, “got held up on the road, this old leg acted up again so I had to make a pitstop at the clinic.” 

“You know, Octavia betted there’s not a snowball of a chance that you’re gonna walk all the way here from Cali.” He chuckles at her raised eyebrow. 

Lexa points at the sole of her shoe, almost bald at this point, “well, here I am.” 

“You’re a piece of work, Commander.” The other brunette holds up her glass in the air, “since I lost the bet, tonight’s on me. Hey Jasper, get us the top shelf moonshine!” 

“You won’t hear me complaining.” 

Liquor flows, so does the conversation. They talk about everything and nothing in particular, favorite childhood memory, best places to eat out in town, Octavia’s college days, Lincoln’s recent attempt at being a stunt actor, Lexa and her experience training dogs. 

Between laughs and drinks, Lexa closely observes the couple even though her senses are fuzzy from the alcohol. She can see how Octavia is good for Lincoln, she brings out a light in him that was once dim and faint, her quick wit and outgoingness make up for his reserved personality, and his steady presence grounds her. 

After probably four shots, two beers, and a Bloody Mary, Octavia’s words start to slur a little, “I gotta ask though, you probably get this a lot—” 

“O, com’on.” Lincoln runs interference, knowing his girlfriend can use some filtering when she gets drunk. 

“You want to know what possessed me to walk here.” Lexa finishes her question instead, “it’s ok, Lincoln.” 

Hollering with another shot in her hand, Octavia wedges herself between her boyfriend and the Commander, leaning in with interest, “See? She’s game! Ch-cheers to the Commander!” 

“Lexa, you don’t have to answer her.” 

“No no, it’s fine.” Either it is the alcohol making her want to talk more, or it is the comforting fact that none of them would remember this conversation in the morning, Lexa finds herself slamming down another shot glass before bringing her hand up to tap at her temple. “I needed time to be alone, well, with Hades of course, but you know what I mean.” 

Octavia nods a little too enthusiastically, comically even, as if what Lexa just said is a big revelation to her. 

“Well, I just… I wanted to figure out what people mean when they talk about fate, why we do what we do, why some people make it back and some don’t. I feel like there’s a debt that I have to pay… but I’m not sure how… Maybe it’s a form of self-punishment, I don’t know, but I think I needed to take the time before I find her, you know, before I say thank you.” Lexa rambles on, “I—I think I just need the time to figure out what the hell I’m gonna say. I’m… I’m not making much sense am I? Sorry, where was I?” Confusion grows as alcohol clogs her brain, she can vaguely make out Octavia’s half-asleep form against Lincoln, and the man is trying his best to steady the both of them. 

With her eyes shut, Octavia seems to still catch on and be nosy, “no no, it makes sense. You needed time to think of something to express your gratitude to her… wait wait back up, who is this woman?” 

Lexa lets out a small laugh, her hand fumbles in the front pocket of her jacket till she retrieves a photo, white lines start to appear at where it is folded. “I don’t even know.” 

“Hey!” Suddenly, the bartender, Jason…? Kasper…? whatever, he pipes up from behind the bar, “that’s Clarke. Clarke Griffin.” 

“What about Clarke Griffin?” Octavia shakes herself awake momentarily at the familiar name. “Wait, hey, you have a picture of Clarke! Where’d you find it?” Then she plops her elbow on the bar, closes her eyes again. 

Lexa looks among the two, then at Lincoln who shrugs, “it’s a long story. Do you know where she lives?” 

“Oh yeah,” Jasper grins deviously, “but uh… it’s gonna cost ya.” He rubs his fingers together and gestures meaningfully. 

At that, Octavia just shoots out a hand and punches him in the chest, not opening her eyes once. 

“Omph, ok, ok! She has a farm in Arkadia, small village far west to Middleton, I’ll write it down for ya.” 

“She lives on the farm?” 

“Her family owned dog boarding kennels are there. Her dad was a vet, and her mom’s house isn’t far from either.” He scribbles on a piece of napkin as he talks. Lexa finds his handwriting incredibly hard to read, especially when the words are floating in front of her eyes. So she tucks it in her pocket with the photo, deciding to further inspect in the morning. 

 

 

May 11 th 2015 

“Aden, time for breakfast!” A young woman’s voice echoes down the corridor, and followed by a blonde head poking into the room. “Come on, we have a lot of work to do today!” 

Her 6 and half year-old son, whose hair is a similar shade of golden, maybe a hue darker, jumps from his bed and runs to the woman’s arms for a morning hug. “Morning mom!”

“Did you enjoy the shopping mall?” An older brunette woman is already seated at the kitchen table, she asks lovingly when the pair make their way downstairs. Abigail Griffin has aged well, not a single strand of grey hair in her still luscious locks, and small wrinkles around her eyes make her look softer than the intimidating chief of surgery people say her to be. 

“Yes grandma, I got a new magic poker set! And I heard a new dog is coming in today!” He does a little hand dance in the air. “Oh, oh, Mrs. Harper tells us we’re having a field trip to the university next month, I need you to sign this paper for me!” He jumps from topic to topic before breakfast is served, which brings a smile to his grandmother’s eyes. 

“Clarke, honey?” Abby calls her daughter before she goes to do the dishes. 

“Yes mom?” 

“Find someone to help with the kennels ok?” She worriedly flips through her calendar. “You know the season is coming, people are going to bring their animals here to go on vacations, and my work is going to pick up soon.” 

“I’ve been posting ads here and there, it takes time, mom. Don’t worry, I’ll be alright.” Clarke kisses her mother on the cheek and takes the plate from her hand. 

Abby sighs and follows her. The sooner they are done with dishes, the sooner they can go into the kennels, and the sooner she can help her daughter with work. She always wants to help. After her husband died, Clarke and Jacob were ones to keep the little family business going, and she knows it is important to them, and now with her son gone… She closes her eyes at the thought. It’d soon be the one year anniversary of her son’s death. 

 

******

Lexa groans when Hades barks loudly at a squirrel that scurries past them. She can’t remember the last time she had a hangover quite like this—to the point of not recalling what she said and how she ended up on Lincoln and Octavia’s couch. Maybe she is getting old. However, as she feels for the note on the napkin in her pocket and actually reads the address, she can’t let this slight ill feeling deter her from finally finding the woman she’s spent months thinking about. After a brief goodbye and thank you’s to her hosts, she packs her luggage, puts on her cleanest pair of jeans, and signals Hades to join her on their journey. 

Wind chimes on the small wooden house greet her happily as Lexa steps into the receptionist office. “Hello? Anyone here?”

“Yeah!” Quickly comes the response and a blonde woman pokes her head out from under the counter with a pile of documents in her hand. Her hair is piled up into a messy bun on top of her head, and a few strands frame her face. 

Lexa almost falters at the sight. The woman, hair shiny like the sun, eyes bluer than the sky, a small dimple in her chin and a freckle sitting at the corner of her upper lip… she is real, she is standing right in front of her, and she is the most beautiful creature in every vivd detail that she’s ever laid her eyes upon. Lexa can’t bring herself to form a sentence, instead, she gulps nervously before opening her mouth and immediately tastes the woman’s name on the tip of her tongue. “Clarke Griffin…” 

“That’s me.” Clarke lifts an index finger telling Lexa to hold her thought, while continues fumbling at the documents in her hand as well as talking on the phone with a client. “Yep, we can take her in on Monday. No, we just need you to sign paperwork for temporary custody, oh and her dietary requirements… Ok, ok absolutely… I promise you won’t need to worry about a thing!” She ends the call with a smile, then turns to eye the brunette woman with caution. “Can I help you?” And then she notices the German Shepherd sitting next to the woman. “Well hello there, who do we have here?”

“His name’s Hades.” Lexa smiles nervously as Clarke rounds the little front desk to greet the dog, who, just like his owner, is absolutely enamored by the stranger lady and whimpers at the first stroke behind his ear. 

With Clarke standing so close to her, she can smell the refreshing scent of waterlily, lavender, and just a tinge of sea salt mixed in peppermint. 

“Such a good boy, yes you are, Hades. What a good boy!” Clarke adores the dog instantly as well, and it is apparent that whoever this woman is, she has trained her dog well. “Well, Hades is too well-behaved to be sent for training, so I’m guessing you want to board him? Taking a vacation maybe?” 

“Uh, no, actually, I came here to find you, Ms Griffin.” Lexa manages to recover, and under the intense stare of curious azure eyes, she looks anywhere but at Clarke, her hand feeling for the pocket on her jacket, “uh, I’ve got this thing of yours… let me just find it, you probably don’t know… I think it’s for the best to just show you…” 

“Oh, oh my gosh! Absolutely! You saw the ad didn’t you, of course!” Clarke nods in conviction, quickly retiring to the back of the receptionist desk. 

“Um…” 

Pulling out drawers and dusting off boxes, the young farm owner pulls out some crumbled paper and a pen. “Ok, I… it’s actually really surprising, Ms…?” 

“Woods, Lexa Woods.”

“Well, Ms Woods, I never thought someone would respond, I mean the pay isn’t outstanding but our clients can be very generous with tips, and plus there’s the year-end bonus and health benefits. The work isn’t that difficult either, basically cleaning cages, feeding and walking the animals and so forth. So if you’re interested, we have the form and you can sign right here.” 

Lexa stares at the slender hand holding out the pen in complete bewilderment. Three minutes into the room and she is offered a job, call it luck or fate, but she suddenly feels too tongue-tied to finish what she was going to say. “Thanks.” Her finger brushes against Clarke’s as she takes the pen from her hand. 

Clarke cranes her neck, trying to read the neat cursive handwriting that sprawls out under the scribbling hand, she notices the boney knuckles are turning white from the tight grip. “So, do you have any other experiences working with dogs beside Hades?” 

“I worked with bomb dogs before.” Lexa arrives at the blank for her previous employment. 

“Wow, you used to be a cop?”

“Marine, ma’am.” Lexa finishes the last few rows and holds both the pen and the form up to the woman staring wide-eyed back at her. 

It seems like the Clarke’s whole body is locked up, her forearm stiff and her fingers twitching as she hesitantly retrieves the items. Then she quickly browses over the form, her dark golden brows furrowing tighter and tighter as she moves through the lines. “Ummm… okay, Sergeant Woods, you may leave your number here so I can reach you, and uh, I’ll call and let you know if you get the job.” 

Confused by the sudden change of demeanor, Lexa feels like she is being brushed off, “sounds like you’ve been having trouble finding someone for the job.” She observes with an unasked question. 

“Why does a person drive all the way from California to work here at a dog boarding farm?” Clarke squints at Lexa, slightly irritated. 

Lexa only shrugs, “couldn’t tell ya, I walked.” 

“You walked? You walked here from California?” Azure eyes grow even impossibly wide, a smudge of fascination and disbelief in the sparkling reflection of the sky. 

“I like to walk.” Lexa states matter-of-factly. 

Studying her for a moment, Clarke opens her mouth several times with no words coming out. At last, she holds up a hand, “would you excuse me for a minute?”, and storms out of the room from the back door. She finds her mother pulling and pushing at a giant Leonberger, trying to convince him into the shower. 

“Mom, mom!” Clarke quickly joins her in the pushing. 

“What is it, honey?” 

Lowering her voice as she sees Lexa, too, wanders to the back door of the wooden house, leaning against the door frame, seemingly unamused. “That woman came here to apply for the job, I can’t get rid of her!” 

Abby spares a glance to the woman, who immediately takes interest in the broken railing on the side of the house. The older woman purses her lips, “she looks harmless.”

“She walked here from California! Tell her you hired someone else or something.” 

“Why don’t you tell her? You’re the one who doesn’t want to hire her.” Abby presses down a smirk, which earns her an incredulous look from her daughter.  “Guess there’s only one way to settle this,” Abby lets go of the dog, who sprints to the opposite end of the kennel to avoid his shower. She rubs her hands on her dirty jeans, and approaches Lexa with a smile, “are you mentally unstable?” 

“I beg pardon, ma’am?” Lexa lets out a gentle laugh. 

Abby takes an instant liking to the young woman that stands anxiously in front of her as if her decision would completely change the course of her life. “My daughter thinks you might be insane.” 

“No, ma’am, I can assure you, I am very clear at the moment and I don’t have a medical history of insanity.” 

“Well, you look like a sharp capable young woman. Now why don’t you tell me, why does a sharp capable young woman like you want a job cleaning cages?” 

“It seems like a peaceful enough work, my last job isn’t.” Lexa shakes her head at her own understatement. 

“Oh, where were you? Wall Street?” Abby snorts at her own joke. 

“No, ma’am. I was in the Marine Corps.”

A slash of hurt appears in the light brown eyes. Abby blinks several times, and looks down to the German Shepherd sitting beside Lexa’s feet, “ahh, Marine Corps.” She mutters contemplatively. 

Some rustling noise comes from the kennels, and Hades growls loudly, his body tensing up and tail stops wagging, then he lets out a loud bark, startling the older brunette. 

“Hey, easy, easy boy. Sit down.” The Marine Officer drops her hand in a commanding gesture, to which Hades obeys without hesitation. 

“Trained him yourself?” When Abby speaks again, her voice comes out softer, but her eyes determined. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

 

Minutes later, Clarke watches as Lexa walks off of the driveway with her incredibly gorgeous dog companion, “how’d you get her to leave?” She jogs up to Abby, pleased. 

“I gave her the job.” 

“You what?!” 

Abby just holds her palms up, “gotta hire somebody?”

“You don’t know anything about her!” 

Used to the dramatic tendencies to her daughter, the older Griffin woman just winks, “neither do you.” 

 

******

Lexa finds herself standing outside of a log house not far from the farm, worn from the weather and stripped down to the bones. The red-faced landlord smelling like smoked ham and chewing tobacco has been ogling at her butt for about ten minutes now. She takes a tour in the house, seeing that beside a spring bed and a wobbly closet, furniture is basically nonexistent, countless holes in the floor, and paint peeling off the walls, everything covered in dirt and leaves. 

But at least there is hot running water, the price is true to its worth. She isn’t exactly in the position to shop for mansions either. “I’ll take it.” 

“Just need a lil tender lovin’, ya know.” The landlord cackles wickedly, “I’ve got tools and timber in the shed. You’s welcome to ’em.” 

It is true, though, nothing some hardware and a pair of skilled hands won’t fix. Lexa mouthes the nearly illegible words on the dusty doormat, “home sweet home.” 

  
****

 

***********************

***********************

A really important note:

So about g!p Lexa, people have been asking whether or not I'll be writing one for this story, and I know I kinda said it depends on how many people want it. 

I lied.

Here's my thing -- by the last update of my ABO series, I said that I've decided to take a step back from ABOverse and g!p fanfic. I've been trying to educate myself by reading posts and reviews about how it can be transmisogynistic and fetishizing trans women and intersex women. It's never my intention to cause harm to other communities. 

I may or may not pull down my ABO series too (haven't decided if I want to keep it and own up to it, or delete it entirely).

That said, I don't pass judgement on people who read and write g!p works, that'll be fucking hypocritical of me. Whether you see it as fundamentally transmisogynistic, or merely commentary on society, or have ambiguity and conflicts, it's not something I can have a say in. 

However, I'm more than happy to provide my work as a platform to represent trans women. If so, I need to do so much more research and learning, and I'll never be able to fully understand because of my cis female identity. If you have personal knowledge and experiences, and are willing to share, please don't hesitate to contact me here or on Tumblr, but again, it's not your job to educate my privileged ass. 

That's my whole spiel, I know some of you may feel a certain way about it, and I do value your input. Leave me a comment or whatnot, but please be mindful of other's opinions and feelings. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I might have enough chapters stored to post every week, then it'll be every other week when I run out. Idk, depends on what you want.


	3. Embarrassed, embarrassing, embarrassments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke can't decide what to make of these feelings for Lexa, meanwhile, Lexa meets Finn for the first time, and builds a stronger relationship with little Aden and Abby.

Embarrassing, embarrassed, embarrassments

 

May 12 th 2015

Hardly able to sleep in the house where everything squeaks and wind seems to slip in from all directions, Lexa gets ready at the crack of dawn, and walks to the farm with Hades. Wandering around the vast land of property, she finds the piece of broken railing that was tittering on the edge of the house yesterday, and stands on a chair to fix it. Hades runs around, waking up all the other dogs and making new friends. 

She doesn’t see the hostess of the farm, nor the kind older woman that gave her the job. She figures it is still too early. 

 

Clarke isn’t one to sleep in. She’s had sleep problems for as long as she can remember. It is always something weighing on her mind, sometimes it’d be Aden’s grades, sometimes her late father, sometimes her brother Jacob, and this night, it was the peculiar woman with wild brown hair and intense emerald eyes. So she sneaks out from the house to go for a run around the valley. 

In the glowing sunrise and chilly wind, Clarke feels content, in touch with her own body and nature. She’s come to appreciate the peace and quiet of being alone, hiding from her responsibilities, running from her sadness, and forgetting that her life can never be the same, for just half an hour or so. She is smiling to the soreness in her legs and the burning in her lungs when she gets back to the farm, well that is until she sees Lexa. 

It is kind of awkward to find this stranger lurking around her home fixing things for her, and it is way too early to be seeing Lexa. She clears her throat, and makes her presence know, “you know, you don’t have to come in till 8:00.” 

Slightly shaken by the voice, Lexa turns to look for the source. The sight of the young woman basked in early sunlight, a thin coat of sweat glinting on her neck and arms, her tank top clinging to her body, and dark yoga pants hugging at all the right curves, it is nothing less powerful than the first time she truly laid eyes on her. But quickly she looks away, chastising herself for being disrespectful. “I couldn’t sleep, figured I’d get an early start.” 

“Well, just to make it clear that we haven’t agreed on anything about overtime pay, so either you can go home early today, or you’re volunteering your time until we reach further agreement.” Clarke says in monotone, and turns to jog back to her house. “Hi Hades.” She stops to pet the dog who looks at her expectantly. 

A sense of disappointment washes over her. Lexa exchanges a look with Hades, who strolls back with tail wagging side to side, it makes her snort, “shut up.” 

Nothing can really have her disheartened. Lexa shakes herself out of the daze and brings up the hammer again to bang the nails in. Fixing things always gives her purpose, makes her feel productive and useful, but nothing really compared to the feeling of fixing this railing right now, because she knows, it isn’t just anybody’s railing. 

All morning, whenever Lexa looks up to the sky, she sees blue and gold. 

 

In the afternoon, Abby shows Lexa the farm and their house, pointing at places where she can clean the tools, where she can change, where she may take breaks and eat. “Oh, we had a hell of a snowstorm back in February, that lovely thing came down.” The older brunette woman steps over a fallen branch in their way to the barn. Lexa follows, making note of a tractor parked in the far end corner of the farm, a ragged cover draped over it. 

 

******

Aden curiously watches the woman scrubbing the dog cage. There is something familiar about her that his young self can’t quite put a finger on. Maybe it is in the way she holds herself up straight, maybe it is the stolid expression when she does the most minute of works, or it is those gentle yet very demanding eyes. “Mom, who is that?” He asks when Clarke comes out of the house with his bags packed up. Aden is about to spend a week at his father’s place in Middleton. Her ex-husband Finn Collins is a Deputy—whose capability of being such is up to debate—and his father is the Mayor. She always winces at the thought of fighting him for Aden’s custody in court, knowing all too well the influence of the Collins family in the local law department. 

“She’s just somebody grandma hired. Hurry up now baby.” She walks toward her truck, but can’t help stealing a glance in Lexa’s direction. 

The Marine Officer has tied her flannel around her waist, in only a tank top and a pair of khaki pants, tan lines run along her collarbones, and her forearms are a beautiful dark mocha color, a stark contrast to the paler skin on her upper arms. There is also a tribal tattoo that sprawls around her exposed arm, its design unique and intricate, its meaning impossible to decipher. 

And as if catching somebody’s staring out of the corner of her eyes, Lexa grabs the shovel and throws it over her shoulder, muscles in her bicep flexing and bulging with every movement. Turning around, she catches Clarke gawking at her, and the little blonde boy waving. A small grin finds its way to her lips, she nods in their direction. 

Her heart steadily skips a beat. Clarke feels the heat rising to her face. She quickly darts her eyes away, and hops into the vehicle. 

Lexa brushes it off with a small laugh. She doesn’t think she’s done something to offend the woman, but Clarke has been putting distance between them. People have the right to dislike someone, no reason needed, Lexa tells herself, but she sure hopes Clarke will warm up to her eventually, and then, she can tell her about the story of the photo. 

 

Clarke sits in the driver’s seat, cold palms against a hot face. That little grin back there, she doesn’t know how to describe it, but it stirred something inside of her. She has not been flustered like this for a long time, and it makes her feel silly. 

“Mom, you ok?” Aden climbs up the truck and sees his mother’s face, concerned, and reaches to feel the temperature on the back of his small hand. 

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I’m fine, baby. Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

“Oh!” He jumps off and goes back to the porch to fetch his violin case, “dad doesn’t like it when I practice in the house.” 

It isn’t the first time he makes an off-hand complaint like this. “Maybe you can practice in the yard.” Clarke suggests. This is another one of their disagreements. Finn has always wanted his son to play football, and wasting time on some artsy-fartsy music instrument is something he never approves, completely disregarding the fact that Aden would pick violin, magic tricks, chess games, and a dozen more outdoor sports over football anytime. 

“Your blankey is in the bag, you can find it for the night, but don’t forget to bring it back this time.” Clarke continues to nag when Aden presses his face on the back window of the truck, watching Lexa as they drive off the farm. 

 

 

May 20 th 2015

Lexa has been pouring her heart and soul to the farm work, like some kind of loyal, gentle, and faithful beast in its very own natural element. She comes in early everyday, and doesn’t leave until well into the evening, she puts much more effort than the work requires, goes above and beyond, doing everything to try to prove herself and her good intentions. 

She has established a routine by now. Every morning she secures the fences before letting the dogs out to clean the cages, then she feeds them, gives baths to those that need it, gives them exercises, and checks in the office for new clients or discharges. Then in the afternoon, she organizes the storage, cleans the tools, washes bowls, and feeds the dogs again. Later in the evening, she spends at least half an hour fixing things, first the squeaky doorknobs, then the leaky pipes, and fire hazards reside in the electricity panel. 

During her only off day in the week, she works too, in her little cabin that she calls home now. Making furniture, painting walls, sweeping floor, fixing the roof—everything she learned over the years to improve her living environment. With little tools and timber, she makes the log house a charming little retreat. 

Clarke sometimes sits in the office, looking out the window. She knows the Marine Officer is quite a smart woman, moving from project to project, slowly creating a little work station around the old tractor. The self-discipline, the hardworking, the phlegmatic temperament, all remind her of someone. 

Her brother. 

And it intensifies her mixed feelings about Lexa. Every time she thinks about their alikeness, the way maybe they’d get along really well, it leaves a sharp pang in the hollow of her chest, a Jacob-shaped hole that brings her an infinity of bitter tears. 

But they are so different too. Jacob was the lighthearted, the talented, the center of attention in her family, and she’d known him from the moment he was born. Whereas Lexa… Lexa seems to be a more reserved person, a person with a story of a sullen past, a person carrying an invisible weight on her shoulders. Clarke can feel herself drawn to the mystery, yet scared out of her mind of the pain this woman can inflict. 

 

Abby’s vacation is coming to an end, so she spends almost every waking moment on the farm, getting all the nature and greenness before going back behind the hospital walls that perpetually smell of chlorine. She wanders around the tractor, finding Lexa underneath. “Sweetie, you know this old thing hasn’t been more than a decoration for probably a decade now!” 

“I just figured it’d save us time with heavy work, ma’am. A beard well-lathered is half shaved.” Lexa comes out from under the tractor with screws in her mouth, she has engine oil all over her white tank top and even some across her nose bridge, but she is smiling victoriously. 

Abby can’t help but laughs, “what do you know about beards.”

“It’s a saying my father always used.” 

“Your father is a wise man.” 

“Was.” Lexa corrects with a small voice. 

Hearing that, Abby sits down with her back against the tire, placing her hand on the young brunette’s knee. “I’m so sorry honey.” 

“Thanks, it was a long time ago.” Lexa gives her a reassuring smile. 

The two of them sit beside the tractor in silence for a few minutes, before Abby speaks again. “You know, Clarke’s father died too, a few years back, cancer. I thought we’d never get over the pain.” 

Lexa looks at Abby’s gentle smile at the thought of her husband, she observes, “but you did.” 

“But we did.” With a long sigh, Abby decides to share some more, “my son died almost a year ago.” 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” This time, Lexa is the one to put her hand on top of Abby’s. 

Nodding at the kind gesture, Abby continues, “we’re still learning to cope with it, Clarke especially, they were very close.” 

“I don’t know what to say, ma’am, it must be very difficult.” She wishes she has a better response, something more profound, something wise, her father was good like that. But in the comfortable silence, Lexa thinks maybe she said the right thing after all. 

 

 

May 25 th 2015

Aden is sitting in the living room with his reading, Clarke is busy cooking breakfast, and Abby just got home from a night shift, on the porch enjoying her tea. 

A loud noise breaks the serenity, followed by the crackling sound of old machine, and branches being broken. It startles all of them, Clarke in particular, almost drops her scrambled eggs. She stomps outside angrily, “what the heck is she doing now?” 

“Can you believe she got that old pile of metal going? Unbelievable!” Abby is absolutely amused. 

Clarke just rolls her eyes at her mother, then she suddenly declares, “I’m taking some shifts for Julia next week.” 

“Ahh…” 

“It’s only for a couple days… but…”

“Honey, why don’t you go back full time. Lexa can probably handle everything at the farm, and it’s been almost a year since—” She is interrupted by her daughter at the last sentence. 

“I know how long it’s been. I just— I’m not ready.” 

Before Abby can pursue the topic again, Lexa drives the tractor past their front porch, dragging the broken branch behind, dogs bark and Hades chases behind. Clarke and Abby watch the chaotic scene in awe. 

“Do you think she has an off-switch?” Shaking her head, Clarke retreats back into the house. 

Abby chuckles approvingly, “I hope not!” 

 

 

June 4 th 2015

Lexa is cleaning the cages when she hears a car pull into the drive. It is just her today, as the mother and son went to a PTA meeting, and Abby pulling a double shift at the hospital. 

A man with floppy hair, in a Deputy suit steps out of his car, and breaks into the reception room. 

Lexa runs to the front door to stop him from wandering all over the place. “What’s up.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” The man takes off his sunglasses and sizes the woman up and down. 

Lexa frowns, backing away for several inches, “is there a problem, Officer?” 

“There will be one if you don’t answer my question when I ask it.” He steps forward, lifting his chin and flaring his nostrils. 

“Oh, I work here.” 

He flashes his badge in her face, “Finn Collins, MPD, put your hands on the counter.” 

“Why?” Lexa inquires, not breaking eye contact with the dark haired man. 

“Would you rather come with me to the station?” Finn threatens once more. “I gotta make sure my wife didn’t hire a criminal to work for her.” 

“You mean your ex-wife.” She’s learned something about Clarke through Abby in the past few days, including this Finn who took advantage of the girl when her dad passed away and got her pregnant by the last semester of high school. 

It seems to further provoke him. He grabs both of her arms and turns her around, slamming into the desk. Then his hand run roughly over her backside until he pulls out her wallet. “Staff Sergeant Alexandria Woods, so you’re a soldier barbie.” 

“Marine.” Lexa swallows the bitterness of her rage, not wanting more harassment than she already received. 

“Well,” Finn lets go of the hands holding her down, and throws the wallet back on the desk, “where’s everybody at, Alexandria?” 

“They’re all out. Do you want me to give Abby and Clarke a message?” 

“It’s Abby and Clarke now, ain’t it?” He once again invades her personal space, staring her down, his greasy hair falling into his eye. For some reason, he feels threatened by this woman, whether because of her impartial attitude towards his own assumed righteousness, or fact that Clarke used to date this girl Charlene in high school before she slept with him. No matter what, he is very unpleased with this new arrangement, which Clarke failed to discuss with him. 

Lexa merely meets his glare with an uninterested look. 

Finn scoffs, “you tell Clarke to meet me at four.” Then he swaggers out, assuming an air of importance, spitting on the ground as he goes. 

 

******

Afternoon, Lexa takes the dogs for a routine walk. By the time she comes back, Clarke is sitting on the porch as Aden runs in and out of the house with different ties to try on. He always changes his mind last minute, but she doesn’t mind waiting at all. 

She’s seen Lexa’s note for her, that Finn came over and reminded her to make an appearance at a town party his father is throwing for his re-election campaign. However, the gathering isn’t something that is remotely on her mind, rather, she’s been worried about Finn meeting Lexa. Not that Lexa is someone that means something to her, but Finn can be possessive and controlling, and he had never gotten along with her brother because Jacob scared him. It is a feeling, a strong and trusted one, that he and Lexa probably didn’t start off on a friendly ground. 

“Mom, I can do it myself!” Aden squirms out of her arms when she smoothes out his collar, comparing which tie goes better with his outfit. He finally decides on the cerulean one that matches the dress she is wearing. When he sees Lexa who just finishes up with locking the cages, he runs over to her, “Hey Ms Woods!” 

She smiles at the little boy, holding up her fist for him to bump. “Hi Aden, and I told you, call me Lexa.” 

“Are we friends yet? Coz mom says for grown-ups I can only use Mr and Ms unless we’re friends.” 

“Well, I consider you my friend, don’t you young sir?” 

“I guess so! Anyways, Lexa, do you like this tie?” 

Amused, the woman cocks her head to the side, pretending to muse over his question, then she throws her hands in the air with a small shriek, “I think it’s a fantastic pick! It matches your eyes, and your mom’s dress.”

“And her eyes too!” He points out. 

Of course, it is the first thing that came into her mind when she saw the baby blue color, streaked with various shades of azure. At his words, she naturally follows the urge to turn around in search of the blue-eyed woman. 

Clarke is observing their interaction with a smile, leaning against a pillar. As green eyes capture her own, her smile falters, her heart picks up its thudding in her chest. She gulps down the lump that formed at the base of her throat, and breathes in deeply before she starts walking toward them. 

Lexa can’t help her gaze that sweeps over Clarke’s body, lingering just a tad longer than necessary on her chest that is shown off by the low cut dress generously. “Excellent choice, Aden. Now go put it on so you won’t be late, ok?” She pats his back lightly to prompt him to go inside. 

Clarke combs her hand through her son’s blonde hair as he runs to her. Lexa thinks she is just coming to retrieve him, but she keeps closing the distance between them after the boy disappears inside the house. 

Blinking, Lexa pretends to not have just spent a second too long admiring a pair of magnificent boobs, she takes interest in the hole that starts to form on the knee of her jeans. 

“Hi.” 

Clarke’s voice is soft, with a tinge of nervousness in it. Lexa suppresses a grin hearing it. “Hi.” 

“So… thanks for the note.” 

“You’re welcome.” She senses that it isn’t the only thing Clarke came over to say, but she doesn’t press for it. 

Clarke worries at her lips for a little bit, searching for the words that she hasn’t had time to practice over. “Finn… he can be an abrasive jerk.” With this, she musters some courage to look up at Lexa, “I’m sorry if he offended you today.” 

“You shouldn’t have to apologize for him.” is all Lexa says in reply. 

_Shouldn’t have to_ , it is enough confirmation that the floppy haired man did say something stupid and acted like an asshole. “I’m… sorry.” 

Lexa just gives her a small nod, “it’s okay.” 

For a second there, Clarke can swear that she saw right through the emotions in Lexa’s eyes. Sadness, forgiveness, tenderness, loneliness, gratefulness. It all flashed through like a breeze on the viridescent water, barely leaving any ripples once it blew over. When she tries to find it again, nothing is there but her own reflection. 

“Look! I did it all by myself!” Aden’s exclaim pulls their attention away from each other. He jumps off the porch, and dashes over, crashing into Clarke’s side. 

Though the knot is a little crooked to one side, and the front piece is too much longer than the back, it still looks decent as a handiwork of a 6 year old. “You look amazing, Aden. I couldn’t have done it better myself.” Lexa gives him a thumbs up, to which he grins brightly. 

Clarke also smiles at the marine officer’s gentle nature, she drapes her hand around the boy’s shoulder to guide him to the truck before he goes on a ten minute story telling about all the different kinds of knots he has learned from the internet. Walking past Lexa, she hears her whisper, “enjoy the party.” 

 

******

They arrive at the town center only fifteen minutes late, and Finn walks over as soon as he spots them. He disapprovingly straightens Aden’s tie, and scorns, “what the hell is this mess?” Then he stands to press his lips on Clarke’s cheek. 

“Hello Finn.” She frigidly pushes him away. 

Embarrassed, the man scoffs, “so, how’s your new girlfriend huh? The desert queen?” He asks out loud purposefully, causing some side eyes thrown at her. In a small Catholic town like this, she’s always been an odd one. Rumors spread quick about her relationships with girls throughout her high school years. She still likes women, but being with one has become virtually impossible after having Aden. She has to put her son first, consider his well-being and feelings before anything else. 

She glowers at the Deputy, “I wasn’t one that hired her.” Walking away, she quickly finds her group of friends, consisting Monty Green, Nathan Miller, Harper McIntyre and Zoe Monroe. 

“Hey blondie!” Zoe waves her over, “how you been?” 

“Not bad, thanks for asking.” Clarke sees the curios look in her friends’ eyes, she groans, “what?” 

“We didn’t say anything.” Monty snickers. 

Harper quickly follows, “unless… there’s something, or somebody, we should know about?”

“So what’s her name?” Nathan is more cut to the chase. 

Clarke throws her hand on her forehead, “I have no idea what y’all are talking about.” 

“C’mon, it’s us!” Zoe chimes in, “the military woman you recently hired. She’s like super hot or something, right?” Again, words travel fast in a small town like theirs, words that probably started by Lexa’s landlord. 

“Jeez, what have you heard!” 

“Well, your mom told us about her. Sounds like she’s real good with her hands, if you know what I mean.” Harper gives her a suggestive look, causing the group to burst in laughter. 

“You know, we should invite her out for a drink or something!” Nathan suggests. Harper immediately rejects, “we don’t want to embarrass our Princess in front of the love interest do we?”

Clarke can only give her friend a warning look, “I don’t even like her. Would you guys stop?” 

There is a look exchanged among her friends, still chuckling. “A’ight, Princess, if you insist.” 

 

 

June 13 th 2015

Since the day that her friends teased her about embarrassing herself in front of Lexa, she seems to manage that just fine by herself. 

It is almost like the woman possesses some kind of detector for her, especially when she is alone. 

Lexa has found her sitting on her ass in a puddle of mud trying to fix the fence but fell backward. She hoisted her up without a word, and the next day, the fence is sturdy as ever. 

Lexa has witnessed her making silly faces for selfies to her friends in the office to kill time. 

Lexa has caught her reading Twilight with unshed tears in her eyes. 

Chances are, Clarke thinks to herself, one day Lexa would probably walk in on her naked with a vibrator in hand. Hell, she even had a nightmare about it, but weirdly enough, instead of her dying of embarrassment, it ended with her moaning her release and a dream full of the color green. 

Ridiculous! She shakes the thought away vigorously and carries on with her morning run. That, is inappropriate. 

“Woof!” A loud bark startles her back to reality. She laughs as Spartacus, a 200 pound Mastiff, finds his favorite pond in the small forest off to the country road. He drags her and the three other dogs that went on the run with them over. 

“Spartacus! No no no no! Come back!” 

But it is all in vain. He sniffs around the bank happily, then leaps into the deepest end without hesitation, making a giant splash that instantly drenches his caretaker who is dangling precariously on the edge, holding his leash. “Oh. My. God.” She sputters out the muddy water, glaring at Spartacus in disbelief. “You’re so going down, mister!” Abandoning all concerns, she toes off her sneakers and socks, jumping into the pond and using her hands to create waves that targeted the dog. 

It is well into their water fight, all the dogs have joined in, when she hears barking from the bridge that looks over the small body of water. She whips her head around, and has to bring her hand up to shield her eyes from the sunlight trickling in between leaves and branches. 

A lithe figure stands on top of the bridge, framed by golden lights shining from behind. The shadow of a German Shepherd accompanies the person. Clarke doesn’t have to guess who it is. 

“Shit.” 

Of course, Lexa has caught her again, with mud streaks across her face, clothes probably now see-through clinging on her upper body, and more than just goosebumps standing to attention in the cold. Clarke hugs her arms closer in front of her chest, praying that she is subtle enough that Lexa doesn’t notice. 

Lexa, on the other hand, is busy pretending that she is only passing through on her way to the farm, not having been drawn by the laughter and the heartfelt scene from her morning routine. She can feel her cheeks and the back of her ears burning at the short-lived image of Clarke’s hard nipples poking through her sports bra then the white shirt. Her fingers have a mind of their own as she unzips her light jacket. 

“What… what are you doing?” Comes a breathy, nervous inquiry. 

It is then Lexa has snapped from her own thoughts and remembers what it must looks like. She quickly folds the jacket, placing it on top of a stump, “here, use this if you need to cover up.” 

Clarke stares wide-eyed as the Marine Officer walks away respectfully, Hades trailing beside her. The dogs are unperturbed by this short encounter, swimming around and wrestling with each other in the water, but it leaves her in a completely different mood as she climbs up to the bank and squeezes water out of her clothes. She picks the jacket up, examining it closely before putting it on with some kind of trepidation. There is still a lingering trace of warmth on the article of clothing, and it carries a smell that is best described as a mixture of soap, grass, the woods, and nature. 

A sinking feeling stirs in her belly, which irritates her. Clarke can't tell what this feeling is anymore, embarrassment, for sure, but also relief, even a little bit of anger. Lexa probably is laughing at her now, for being this clumsy, silly woman that can’t handle herself if she tried. It isn’t her fault that every time she is in some kind of compromised position, the woman would show up out of nowhere. 

As the dogs grow tired, she finds herself less interested in completing her morning run. So she walks back to the farm, her hair and clothes drying in the sun rays that fall through the heavy canopy. When she reaches the house, she hasn’t seen Lexa anywhere. 

The smell of scrambles eggs, bacon, and coffee permeates the air as she steps in. Her stomach growls loudly. “Ugh!!!” Clarke groans, mainly to her mother who she assumes is making breakfast in the kitchen, “that woman is _so_ irritating. Every time I turn around—”

“Ahem…” The older woman clears her throat and makes a face, cutting her daughter off with some urgency. 

Lexa carries a bottle of maple syrup from the kitchen, and gives Clarke a smile that looks more like a smirk, “good morning.” 

Clarke wishes she has drowned in the pond, or maybe cracked her head open on the porch, whatever, so she never has to face this kind of embarrassment ever again. She peeks at the brunette woman who makes herself at ease, perched on the chair, chewing a piece of bacon. It is one thing to talk about someone behind their back, but another thing to intentionally hurt their feelings, and she hopes she hasn’t fucked up too bad. 

“So, where are we?” Abby pours herself a coffee, and make another face, this time to Lexa. 

The Marine Officer just grins at her, not in the slightest bothered by the small incident. “We moved around a lot when I was little, from base to base, but the majority of teenage years, I grew up in southern California.” 

“It must’ve been hard on a child, changing schools, leaving friends.” 

“Well, it was all I knew.” Lexa spares a glance at the younger Griffin woman, who now is sulking in the kitchen, pretending she isn’t eavesdropping on their conversation. 

“And did you go to college?” Abby catches the glance, but she mentions nothing. 

Lexa bites her lip and gives the woman a grimace, “just for two years, ma’am. I enlisted after that.”

“What did you study?”  
“Well she couldn’t have studied much, I mean, it is just two years.” Clarke carries her own bowl of cereal out, leaning against the door frame. 

“Clarke Abigail Griffin.” The older brunette warns, a little taken aback by her daughter’s rudeness. 

“I liked philosophy.” Lexa nonetheless answers the question. 

“Oh, really?” Clarke’s question sounds more taunting than sincere. At this point, she isn’t entirely sure why she is irritated, and who she is irritated by. 

“Yeah, I like to read.” Lexa takes a sip of her coffee, and turns her attention to Clarke. 

There it is, the gloating smirk again in those watery lake green eyes. Clarke doesn’t back down at that, she fires again, “give us a quote of your favorite philosopher then.” 

Lexa squints at the woman in silent contemplation, who snickers victoriously in the entirety of those five seconds. “Sometimes the questions are complicated, and the answers are simple.” Finally she recites. 

“Don’t tell me, it’s Voltaire, right?” When the viridescent eyes narrow again, she feels even more confident, “it’s Voltaire, isn’t it.” 

“It’s Doctor Seuss.” Lexa says in all seriousness, which makes Abby laugh outright at Clarke’s expense. If looks can kill, Lexa feels the young woman throwing eye daggers at her. So she decides to not tease her any further, getting up and thanking her hostess, “thank you very much for the coffee, Mrs. Griffin. I should go back to work.” 

“Would you just call me Abby for goodness’ sake!” 

As soon as Lexa steps out of the screen door, Clarke quickly runs over to close it. Leaning against the wooden board, she throws her hand over her mouth, eyes wide, as if she can not believe the teasing from her own mother. 

“Pfft, Voltaire…” Abby just scoffs in mockery, “now that’s what I call a sense of humor.” And if Abby noticed her daughter’s wet hair and the jacket she is sure belongs to Lexa, she doesn’t question it. 

 

 

June 20 th  2015

Clarke goes back to Aden’s elementary school to take a shift for her friend as the school nurse. In the hallway, she sees her son being pushed around by some other kids. 

“Violin? You play violin? Are you like a girl or something?” A boy grabs his violin case, his face distorted with vicious laughter. 

“Maybe he’s queer, like her dyke mom.” 

Clarke is flabbergasted, she doubts the child even knows what those words meant. 

Aden tries to fight his way through, but he is falling slightly behind on his growth curve, like Clarke had been when she was a child. “Give it back!”

“I bet he’s no good either!” 

“He can’t even play. A waste of time.” 

“His mom’s here! Let’s go!” A kid spots Clarke from afar so he drags the others and runs away. 

Aden picks up his violin case, swallowing back his tears. If his uncle Jacob had taught him anything, it would be that haters only hate because they are jealous, and that tears never solve problems; all he needs is to try his hardest, to please nobody but himself. However, this time the bullies pushed his button. He has been doubting his decision to take up violin. His father, for one, is never a fan of it. Maybe he is really no good. Maybe it is a waste of time. 

Clarke worriedly rushes over, caressing his full head of golden hair, “are you ok, Aden?” 

He just keeps his head down. 

 

After school, Aden disappears into his tree house, one linked by a rope bridge from the riverbank to a small island in the center of the river. He thought he’d give it one last try, but he needed a place where nobody can hear him. 

Lexa has been walking past the bigger bridge parallel to the rope bridge, Hades by her side. She is on her way from the farm to her cabin to call it a day when her ears perk at the faint music that reverberates in between the trees. 

She loses track of how long she stood, listening to the boy practice song after song, some classics, some modern, some fluent, others not so much. 

The golden haired boy is in his own element, eyes closed as his fingers glide over the strings, head tilted to the side, body swinging with the melody he creates. By the time of his last song, the forrest has fallen silent, creatures of the night only starting to awake. 

“Not bad.” She makes herself known, half shouts from the other side of the river. 

Aden turns side to side trying to find the woman. When he does, he looks slightly flustered. “I didn’t think anyone is listening.” 

“Glad I was.” Lexa offers a genuine smile and waits as the boy packs his things. She wants to ask about how he knows all those songs, but bites her tongue as she senses his weariness that she accidentally heard him playing. “Come on buddy, I’ll walk you home.” 

The boy walks down from the bridge, and naturally goes to hold her hand. He peers at her reaction, and decides that it is ok when Lexa again gives him a warm smile. Soon enough, he grows impatient of their pace, and trusts Lexa with his instrument as he runs ahead with Hades. 

 

Right before sunset, Lexa has taken the boy home. Clarke is busy doing chores in the kitchen, but one spare glance outside the window, she finds herself distracted by the scene. 

Lexa is handing back the violin case to Aden, they bump fists as they say goodbye. The boy quickly runs toward the house with a skip in his steps. Lexa watches till he goes back into the house safely, then she whistles at Hades who is lingering at the cages, signaling him to go with her. 

Clarke doesn’t realize she has been staring, completely enamored by the way Lexa walks into the sunset, neither briskly, nor idly, the reddish golden light framing her stature and dancing in her braided hair. She can almost see Lexa in her uniform, dark green t-shirt hugging her admirable body snuggly, the camouflaged jacket and pants adding to her authority, the cap barely containing those unruly curls…

Abby watches her daughter slip into a day dream with a dazed look on her face, a knowing smile tugs at the corner of her lips. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I appreciate your comments and kudos, they always make my day.


	4. Hidden away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby and Lexa have a conversation in the car. Clarke opens up about her past. Ranya also returns briefly.

Hidden away

 

June 24 th 2016

Lexa returns a dog to its family when Abby is back from her night shift and just wakes up from a nap. She wanders around the farm, not finding her daughter so she turns to the marine officer for help. 

“Lexa, can you drive me somewhere? Clarke’s out with a friend and my drive to the church fell through.” 

Lexa readily obliges, not knowing the simple car ride will turn out to be a thorough background check, which amuses her to no end. 

At first, Abby is the one that does more of the talking, about Clarke and Aden mostly. “My bossy daughter won’t let me drive after night shift since… well, you can hardly call it exhaustion hazard, more like a blink!” 

Lexa smiles, “well, ma’am, I’m happy to give you a lift whenever you need.” 

Abby grows fond of the young woman’s politeness, which she finds rare in people her daughter’s age. Her gaze softens, voice loving and amiable, “how old are you, dear?”

“Twenty eight, ma’am.”

“How many tours?”

“Five.” They ranged from six to fifteen months, depending on the mission and the unit size. It was easier, for her than many others, knowing that no one back home is worried sick over a longer deployment or a missed phone call. 

Nodding, Abby regards the younger brunette for a while, curiosity again propels her to ask, “are you planning on going back?”

Lexa bites the inside of her cheek, unsure of what her answer will be, but she decides to be honest, “I don’t know yet. Technically I’m on leave without pay, my last rotation was interrupted and my unit was hit hard. The prospect of being places in a new unit… I find it rather hard to see the appeal.” People that trained in bootcamp alongside her, people that got promoted at the same time as her, people that went through the bad and the worse with her, many of them are gone, disabled, or even worse, took their own lives. She knows, or she tries to tell herself that it is not her fault, it is nobody’s fault. But it planted doubt in her, whether she is an adequate enough leader, whether she deserves the title to be the Commander, and whether she can go on making decisions that she knows might cost lives. 

Abby is quiet for a few minutes, until she speaks again, this time with the kind of sadness that can’t be concealed, “my son never finished his second. You would’ve liked him. You two, are cut out of the same clothe,” she tries to lighten the mood, “you know, I’ve been doing the things I do for long enough, Lexa, I’ve seen enough losses, I lost my husband, I lost my son, and I still lose people all the time, patients, friends, relatives.”

“Ma’am, we can talk about something else if you wish to.” 

“No no, hear me out. I’ve seen enough, and I’ve learned to appreciate the memory I have, and stop blaming those who weren’t bound to make it. Clarke… she hasn’t learned that like I have. She isn’t as bad as she seems.” 

Chuckling, Lexa finally sees where this conversation is heading. Admittedly, Clarke hasn’t been the most welcoming, a little bratty and a little bitchy even, but it is kind of adorable in its own right. “She doesn’t seem that bad to me at all.” 

Abby’s face lights up from how hard she is grinning. 

 

******

Dropping the older brunette off at the church and returning to the farm, Lexa sees Clarke's car has pulled into the driveway. She goes to place back the keys. “Hello? Clarke?” She pushes open the house, but finds it quiet and empty on the first floor. She goes through the hallways to drop the key at the bowl she has found it in. The door off to her right squeaks open from wind, where she discovers a room with furniture covered in white sheets, collecting dust. It is not long before she realizes the room probably belonged to Clarke’s brother. With a bit of surprise, she locates a set of triangle piano in the corner. It looks like they might have even more in common than she thought. 

Now, Lexa doesn’t view herself as some kind of music prodigy, or one of those that claim to be “naturally attuned”, but she does enjoy playing it from time to time. It is what made her father smile. She lifts the cover up, and tries out some notes, linking them into a simple melody. 

Aden is in the study, his mom was clearing out the attic for space to store paperwork from old clients, leaving him to read Harry Potter in his bedroom, when he hears the soft piano. He quietly sneaks out of the room, and slips downstairs, hiding behind the bedroom door to see who the intruder is. 

He finds Lexa standing in front of uncle Jacob’s old piano, keys flowing from the brush of her fingertips. It doesn’t sound like anything he knows, and he can’t quite put his finger on the tone of the song. Sullen, morose, doleful… those are words too big for him to acquire just yet. But he knows it has a tinge of sadness, the same sadness he feels for his mother. 

Not long after, Clarke climbs down the attic and calls his name, causing Lexa to snap out of her trance. She quickly covers the piano the way it was before, and steals herself out from the back door into the farm. 

 

******

When it is time to flip the “open” sign over, Lexa finds the mother and son cooking dinner together in the kitchen. They have turned the radio on, blasting some pop Disney songs, enjoying this happy moment as a family. 

“There you go! Yes!” She cheers when the boy lifts his knees to mimic some eighties dance moves, all the while minding the bubbling sauce in the pan. “Can you help me with the vegetables? Thank you baby. That’s it!” She instructs Aden to gather the chopped carrots and onions and throw them in the concoction. 

Lexa knocks on the door, and pokes her head in, announcing she has finished the work before her one day off, “night all.”

“Hey Lexa, do you like jambalaya?” Aden extends the invitation without consulting his mother. He really adores this woman, and believes that she shouldn’t be left alone after she had played such a sad song earlier. 

“No, no, Aden, I’m sure Ms Woods has plans.” Clarke is quick to warp her arm around her son’s shoulders, holding him back from dragging Lexa inside. It is the weekend, it is supposed to be relaxing, she is not in the mood to entertain a guest, and god knows she’s probably going to embarrass herself again in front of this woman. 

“Do you?” Aden insists. 

Lexa pretends to give a thought, then she teases, “I can’t remember the last time I has plans.” In the corner of her eyes, she sees Clarke tense up at her answer, and almost regrets saying so, but how can she say no to Aden’s expectant eyes? 

“Yeah!” He takes her hand, leading her into the small space. 

“Alright buddy, show me your moves!” Lexa does a double finger gun at the boy, issuing a challenge for a silly dance battle. 

Clarke only discreetly rolls her eyes once when Aden gets a little too enthusiastic, almost jumping on the table. Lexa catches him under the armpits and lets him down to safety. 

 

Dinner goes uneventfully for the three. Lexa keeps quiet as she ate, only praising the food once in a while to be a polite guest. Clarke is exhausted from working a full week for her friend. But Aden is the one that keeps the conversations flowing, his talkative personality probably not inherited from his mother. 

“Mom ran tracks, she is super fast!” Every time he brings up something about Clarke that intrigues Lexa. 

Clarke carries their plates to the sink, shaking her head, “it was cross-country, and I really wasn’t that good.” 

“Is that why you got a scholarship to UW? ‘Cause you ‘weren’t any good’?”

“Ok, once upon a time, I was… I was pretty good.” Clarke smiles at his face that is full of pride, as if it is his achievement. But her self-consciousness intensifies when she inevitably meets Lexa’s gaze, immediately reminded of the woman’s stunning physicality. Judging from those long toned legs that can’t be hidden by her khaki pants, and her lithe build, she bets the Marine Officer is a thousand times better. Hell, the woman fought in wars, and if she can’t run, Clarke highly doubts the chance of her survival. She turns to her son, red-faced, “are you happy now?”

Aden fawns innocence. 

“You went to UW?” Lexa asks. She’s accomplished a bachelor’s degree from the military academy in between her deployments, but given a do-over, or that her father didn’t die when she was a college freshman, she’d probably want to take advantage of the four-year college experience before enlisting. 

Clarke has to admit that it is flattering, to have Lexa’s attentive eyes showering her with admiration and attention, but she clarifies, “no, I went to Edgewood College, it’s only twenty minutes from home when some stuff came up.” 

“She got pregnant, with me!” 

“Well thank you Aden! Isn’t it your night to do the dishes?” She panics at the telltale sign of him going off a tangent that probably will reveal too much personal information, and sends the boy to the kitchen. 

Aden whines, reluctantly gathering the last few plates on the table. 

“Thank you.” Clarke feels bad for being cranky, she pulls him in a tickling kiss as he walks by. When her attention returns to the woman sitting opposite to her, she finds those gentle emerald eyes still watching her carefully, adoringly. It makes her heart thump a little louder and do this annoying flips in her chest. She pretends to investigate the chipped paint on the edge of her dinner table. 

“Do you still do it competitively?” Lexa finally asks after a long period of silence, eager to put the blonde woman at ease. 

“Oh no, no no, now I just do it to clear my head. It’s a lot cheaper than therapy so…”

“So is walking.” Lexa grins, which earns her an incredulous look from Clarke, but it is more amused than freaked out. “Who plays chess?” She points at the unfinished game that they moved out of the way to eat dinner. 

“Me!” Aden dives right back into the conversation at the first sound of “chess”. 

“Me too.”

“Bet I can beat you.” He says with confidence, and issues his challenge. 

Lexa is not one to back down from a challenge. She has not played in a while now, not finding a compatible partner since her father passed. She is not really good at it either, but he never pretended to let her win. It was his way of showing his love, and teaching her about humility, and failures. “Guess we’ll find out. What’s the bet?”

“Dishes tonight.”

“Dishes tonight versus pooper scupper next Monday.” She extends her hand to shake with Aden’s small one, bluffing, “gotta warn you though, I can be pretty ruthless.” 

The boy feigns a scared look, which causes both women to laugh. 

 

To Lexa’s delight, the boy is way more competitive than she imagined he’d be. His small hand dances around the chess pieces like he is creating a form of art, cornering her, trapping her, making her take risky moves and coaxing her to make mistakes. 

“I can check you in two steps.” Aden pushes one of her piece out of the game board. 

Lexa can hardly believe what just happened. She let her guard down and focused too much on offense, leaving her defense weak. It is a lost battle, but she is not going down without a fight. Tapping her chin, she quickly moves a piece in the aid of her King. 

Aden enjoys watching his opponent suffer. As Lexa muses over her next move, he drags the race car toy on the table, trying to distract and mock her. Clarke finally figures out who is the culprit behind all the scratches on her table. 

Lexa sighs and makes her last move. Aden takes one glance and delivers a quick kill, “checkmate. Detergent is under the sink.” 

“Did I just get hustled?” Lexa admits her defeat unwillingly, looking between the mother and the son, who are sharing a hearty laugh at her expanse, but can’t help her own smile that breaks forth. She wanders to the sink where the dishes were piled taller than the countertop, and drapes the dishrag on her shoulder. Clarke follows behind, feeling slightly guilty having not warned the woman about her son’s brilliance. 

While rinsing the plates, Lexa teases the child supervising her, “so you got more secret talents, buddy?”

“You’re the one with the secrets.” Aden points out. 

They pause. 

“I saw her playing the piano.” 

Lexa nervously touches her nose, leaving some detergent bubbles on the tip. “Sorry, I saw it when I put the keys back. I wasn’t trying to snoop.” However the two blonde heads share a look between them, and burst out in giggles. 

Clarke relents at the woman’s adorably— _adorably?_ she faintly registers—confused look, pointing at her own nose. 

Lexa quickly wipes her face on her sleeve. 

“It’s okay.” Clarke whispers, reaching for the last plate in the water, not paying attention that Lexa is doing the same. Their hands meet under the surface of detergent bubble filled water, and their arms brush together at the action. It is when she finally realizes, unbeknownst to herself, she has gravitated to the warm body beside her during the chore. In that finite moment, all she feels, all her mind can concentrate on, is the lithe hand that overlaps with hers, the warm palm that encircles her fingertip, the calloused thumb that glides over her knuckle. She’d be lying if she said she isn’t at least a little bit fascinated by the woman’s hands—long, defined, tanned and strong, she’d also be lying if this isn’t something she’d imagined, the pleasant temperature, the roughness to the touch. 

Lexa is the one that pulls away first, muttering an apology, and drying the suds on the dishrag. The back of her ears starts to feel hot again. 

Aden comes to their rescue again, he comments, “Lexa, you don’t have to be sorry, you’re really good!” 

“Hey, you’re not too bad yourself with a violin, my friend. Why don’t you show me what you got?” 

He doesn’t seem too thrilled by the request, “how about a magic trick instead?” 

“Oh, okay.” Lexa doesn’t press, she flies with it instead. 

Clarke clears her throat, finding her voice, “he doesn’t like to play in front of people.” She leaves out the fact that it is because of Finn’s constantly disapproving and condescending attitude. 

It pains her to think about the damage he’s done to Aden, and it pains her to know that some of it is also caused by her fear and cowardice. It sits heavily and thickly on her chest, like poison that she can’t just cough and spit out, like evil that she can’t put into words. And yet somehow, in the pair of watery green eyes unblinking as they stare back into hers, she sees it as plain as moonlight —Lexa understands. 

 

Aden skips back in time as they grow shy and awkward in the pregnant and meaningful silence. He pulls his guest down on the couch and settles across the table, shuffling his poker set, “ordinary deck”. When his little fingers nearly drop all the cards, he giggles nervously. 

Lexa encourages him to laugh it off, and asks if it would be the same if she did the shuffling. 

Aden laughs when she also nearly messes it up, of course hers is more intentional. 

“Tell me when to stop!” He flips through the cards, instructing. 

“Stop!” 

“Memorize the card, I’m not looking I’m not looking.” Aden turns his head away, squeezing his big blue eyes shut. 

Lexa does what he said, then watches as Aden shuffle the cards again. 

“Let me put a little magic.” His finger dance on top of the deck, like he is sprinkling magic dust, then he holds it to his mother’s face, “you blow on it.” Clarke obeys. Then he draws one card from the bunch. “Is this your card?” He asks Lexa. 

“Um…” Her card is definitely not a spade. 

“Just say it’s not your card if it isn’t.” Aden nearly rolls his eyes with impatience. 

“It’s not my card.” 

With that, he turns to his mother and sticks out his tongue, “told you! You’re not magical at all!” He cackles when Clarke feigns hurt by clutching the front of her shirt. “Now you blow on it, Lexa.” 

“What if I’m not magical either? What if my card is forever lost!” She lets out a dramatic cry, all the theatrics that makes him laugh louder. He just holds it closer to her, so she does what he tells her to. 

Not surprisingly, he draws another card, and it is precisely what hers has been, a queen of hearts. 

“Wow! That is really my card. Aden, I didn't know you’re such a skilled magician!” 

“Wait till you see this one.” He loves the attention showered on him, and proceeds to show her more tricks.

However, it is late, and the boy must go to sleep. Clarke has gone upstairs to prepare his pajamas and come back. “Aden, honey, it’s bed time.” She sits on the couch next to him, running her hand through his short hair. 

“Wait, but this is the best one!” He is setting up a new game for Lexa and him, ignoring his mother, whose hand freezes in the air when he shies away.

“Hey, why don’t you show it to me another time? I’m not going anywhere.” Lexa detects the smallest change in the air, and decides to step in as referee. 

Clarke is more cut to the chase. She has always been firm about bedtime, especially today, well, today has been a strange day, and she can feel the tension building inside of her exhausted body. Her hands reach for the poker cards, while Aden stubbornly holds onto them, tugging back and forth. 

“Aden, let go.” She demands in a less tolerant tone. 

The boy’s hands slip, and his small body nearly topples over the table, cards flying over their heads and land on the carpet. Lexa has reached out to steady him, but once he rises up, red faced and a small vein in his neck bulging, he storms off to his room in exasperation, “just wanted to show her a trick!” 

Clarke sighs, and turns to look at Lexa who is a bit stunned by the turn of events. “I’m sorry. He’s not usually like this… I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” 

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” Lexa bends down to gather the cards for Clarke. 

“My brother… he taught him magic. It’s like… you know, it’s like their ‘thing’.” Clarke doesn’t know what made her say that, but the presence of Lexa, right then right there, has a soothing effect on her. “He passed away last year. He was a Marine too.” 

Lexa stops only momentarily. She already knows that, Abby has shared with her. But coming from Clarke, it means something else entirely. 

Clarke pauses, stealing a glance at the Marine Officer. When those emerald eyes—she’s noticed how the color changes just so subtly at different time of the day and in different lights, and how they look more hazel now under the dim lamp—rest upon her, she finds strength in them to continue, “It’s been hard on Aden… It’s been hard on all of us.” 

Of course, it is a feeling she is all too familiar with. Lexa feels her heart break for Clarke. Every time she had to tell a family overseas that their loved ones had been wounded or killed, an overwhelming sense of sadness, of sorrow, of guilt, would wash over her like darkness takes over the sky at night. And every time, she faced the same questions she kept asking herself: why them? Why not her? Why does the Commander get to live through it all while her people die and suffer? 

It feels natural to reach out and capture Clarke’s hand in her own, to console the woman, and to grasp onto the strand of warm light before the suffocating darkness looms over her heart. Her eyes drop to the stark contrast of her own tanned skin against the pale complexion. 

This time, neither of them flinch. 

When Lexa speaks again, her voice is gentle but definitive, “Aden is amazing. You have taught him well.” 

She gives her a small smile, just about to mutter a ‘thank you’, Hades, who has been quietly sitting on the porch, lets out a warning growl out of the blue, his body tensing up. The Marine Officer immediately shoots up, stalking over to the door. Clarke doesn’t miss the way her right hand feels for the side of her belt, most certainly where she used to keep her issued weapon. 

It is ridiculous, Clarke thinks, and amazing, and heartbreaking, that Lexa is always so alarmed and vigilant. Her brother had never been this way, but he had talked about veterans that suffered from night terrors, PTSD, panic attacks, and many other mental illnesses coming back from the frontline. Though it isn’t her place to put a label on what Lexa is experiencing, she feels selfish to have subjected the woman to her own sadness and anger, to have treated her harshly because of the baggages she carries, when Lexa probably is carrying way heavier memories and burdens. In that moment, she feels herself drawn, more so than before, to Lexa, wanting to know her story and to share her pain. 

Lexa lets out a breath of relief hearing women singing choir songs in the car. The church members have driven Abby home, and clearly they had a rather unconventional night. 

The older brunette steps out of the vehicle, slightly disoriented, waving to her friends. Lexa is quick to steady her by the elbow, and catching another woman who also stumbles into her body. 

“Awww, you’re so helpful dear, and so chivalrous! Isn’t… isn’t she chivalrous!?”

Abby is delighted, “yes, I told you Cece, Lexa is a sweetheart.” 

The woman named Cece giggles, and plants several vigorous kisses on Lexa’s face, before dancing into the house. 

Clarke watches in shock, brows furrowed in disapproval. “Mom! Aunt Cece! Have you been drinking?” 

“You know, I had this drink called Moscow Mule, sounds terrible, but tasted so good!” 

“Cece had a little bit too much to drink, she’s staying the night with us, sweetie.” Abby and the woman climb up the stairs to the older Griffin’s room. 

“I’ll make you a cup of tea.” Clarke raises her voice to inform them. 

Cece shrieks back, “that will be fantastic!” 

“Wow, okay…” Clarke turns back to Lexa, shaking her head in amusement. She finds Lexa darting her eyes from side to side. 

“Look, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” At Clarke’s raised eyebrow, she nervously bites her bottom lip, and loses the ability to reason as the curious blue eyes come to a rest on her lips. “I… I’ve never fully explained… um…” 

Clarke’s smile slowly disappears as she comes to the realization of where she has been staring at. Confusion rises in her chest and aches behind her breastbone. 

“I’m sorry I can’t find the right words.” 

“It’s alright.” Finally, she says reassuringly, “maybe another time. After all, I’m not going anywhere either.” 

With wordless appreciation, Lexa nods and slowly backs away from the door. 

“Goodnight, Lexa.” 

Her heart clenches tight at the sound of her own name. It was so soft and so sweet as it slipped out from those slightly parted lips, turned sharp at the consonants and wrapped around at the vowels. Blushing like she is a teenager again, Lexa hides her face, and pretends to be busy searching for Hades. “Come on buddy.” She misses the way his back is hunched and his ears are pointed in the direction of some far-away shadows. 

Neither of them notices, among all the chaos and noise, a black car has pulled into the driveway with its lights out. Finn sits behind the wheels, his jaw taut and eyes dark, watching Lexa’s silhouette slowly merge into the darkness of the night. 

 

More and more frustrated she grows as she paces in her cabin. Once again, the struggle between telling the truth and keeping things the way they are begins. Oh she so wanted to just tell Clarke, where she has been, how she’d find her, but she has a feeling that bringing it up would make things worse for Clarke and her family. 

Her finger hovers on the trackpad of her laptop, the cruiser resting at Anya’s name on her FaceTime contact list. She loses track of time she spent on staring at her friend’s little bubble shaped icon. She admires Anya’s sharp jawline and chiseled cheekbones, and the way her usually sharp and cold eyes soften as she glances sideway to Raven, who is dropping a kiss on her shoulder. 

Lexa is suddenly overwhelmed by how much she misses her friends, her friends that are in a sickeningly sweet relationship. Sometimes, she is confused by this feeling. It’s envy, it’s admiration, it’s heartache, it’s loneliness, but right now, it’s hope. 

Anya and Raven, both have been through hell and worse, both came back from that ugly, broken place that is war, they found strength in each other, and healed each other. They give her hope, and that hope has burned brighter and hotter since she’s met Clarke, from her blue gaze and soft voice, from the curve of her lips when she laughs and the crease in between her brows when she frowns, from the way she cares for Aden and banters with Abby. And sometimes, from the sadness in the dim lights of her eyes, in the long shadow by her feet, in the stories she tells, and the words that remain unspoken. She sees it, she recognizes it, and she feels it. That’s how she begins to realize that Clarke, with ten thousand attitudes and a brilliantly mastered facade of sassiness, in odd ways, heals her. 

Suddenly the screen of her laptop lights up and the picture of Anya’s profile expands, signifying a FaceTime request from her friend. Lexa stares in awe at this freakishly telepathic occurrence, just for a second, before accepting the call. 

_“Sup, commander!”_ Raven’s head pops into the screen first, _“told ya she’d pick up!”_ She turns to the person outside of the camera view, and grins. 

Lexa shakes her head at the younger woman’s bubbly voice. “Hello Raven, is there a reason that you’re calling me at,” she finds the time on the right upper corner of her laptop, “one in the morning?” 

_“You sound surprised for someone who picked up so fast.”_ Raven dismisses her with a flick of her wrist. Anya finally emerges and sits beside her girlfriend, shaking her head in amusement. _“Hey Lexa, I did not endorse this kind of behavior, just so you know.”_ Her words are reprimanding, but her gaze remains soft and loving at the girl who can barely sit still.

Raven bumps her shoulder at Anya’s. _“I know you’re just as excited as I am, don’t pretend. Anyways, Lexa, we have some exciting news to share with you!”_

“Hmm, I bet you do.” Lexa plops her chin on her palm, her dark thoughts and contemplation temporarily fades into the back of her mind.

_“First of all, most importantly, something good happened to me! Guess what!”_

“The suspense is killing me.” Lexa sasses, knowing Raven doesn’t have the patience to go back and forth with the guessing game. 

_“I’m done with rehab! I passed the physical test today.”_ Raven throws up her hands in the air, _“I’m amazing.”_

It is the kind of news that makes her day. Lexa smiles proudly, “congratulations, I’m really happy for you, Rae.” 

_“Thanks Lexa. But this is not the reason I’m calling you late.”_

“Oh?”

_“Do you remember Echo?”_ This time, Anya is the one that speaks. Unlike Raven, she takes an excruciating amount of time to tell the background story as she builds up to her point. 

“Echo… sounds vaguely familiar.” Lexa thinks of a blurred face, with dirty blonde hair, a slim figure, in some sort of medical personnel uniform. 

_“She works at the VA’s hospital, one of the trauma ICU charge nurses. Worked nights.”_ Anya describes the woman. _“I spent quite some time talking with her when I visited you in the ICU.”_

Lexa rolls her eyes, “wow, how forgetful of me, of course I remember all twenty of the nightshift nurses that took care of me when I was intubated and heavily dosed with pain meds!” 

_“Mockery is not—”_ Anya starts to chastise her friend. 

“—the product of a strong mind. Yes, I’m sorry, please continue.” Lexa snickers when she finishes Anya’s sentence for her, earning a glare from her former mentor. 

_“Well, we kept in touch, and got close over the last few months as she’s also volunteering at Raven’s rehab center.”_

“Ok, she sounds like a nice person.” 

_“She’s getting married!”_ Raven announces.

_“To this guy named Bellamy. He’s an associate professor in the department of history at Stanford.”_

_“Smart guy. Pretty decent looking too.”_ Raven doesn’t miss the faux jealousy from her girlfriend. She sticks out her tongue and winks before dipping in for a sloppy kiss on Anya’s cheek. 

Lexa pretends she doesn’t see the blush rising from Anya’s face, and suppresses the childish urge to gag. “And this concerns you, or me… how?” 

_“They’re having the ceremony in his hometown, his sister and mother still live there. And he's from…”_ Raven pauses for dramatic effect, _“Wisconsin!”_

_“We got the invitation to tag along.”_ Anya supplements. 

“You’re coming here?” Lexa asks in surprise.

_“Yeah, it looks like it. I have quite a bit of money saved up, and Raven is free from rehab, we’re really over being cooped up in this small apartment.”_ Anya explains, _“it’ll be good for us. Plus don’t you miss us.”_

_“Yeah, ever since you went AWOL on us in the name of finding this mysterious woman.”_

“I did not go AWOL. I sent you cards and called you all the time.” Lexa protests, “but I suppose I do miss you. So when is this happening?” 

_“Things are still in the planning stage, but soon, I guess, coz once it’s the new school year he can’t take off for another year or so.”_ The buzzer beeping in the background pulls Raven’s attention away. She lets out a small cry of “pizza”, and shoots up from her sitting position to answer the doorbell. Anya watches her girlfriend leave, with the same look of carefulness and adoration. When Raven starts to have a conversation with the pizza delivery person, who has become a friend to them by how much they order in, she turns her head back to Lexa. _“So, how’s working on the farm?”_

“It’s been good.” Lexa shrugs, not having much to complain about. She likes her job just fine, it’s nothing glamorous or remotely demanding, but it is peaceful. 

_“Is the woman still a bitch?”_

“She’s not a bitch.” Lexa frowns just slightly. 

_“Sure sounded like one the last time you described her to me.”_

“Anya,” she sighs, “Clarke is not a bad person. She’s just suspicious and protective sometimes, understandably so. But lately… she’s been opening up to me a lot more.” She recalls the conversation they had before getting interrupted by Abby and Cece. The corner of her mouth tugs into a slight up-curve. 

Anya pauses, she recognizes that look. She reads Lexa’s micro expressions like black ink on white paper, and however insignificant it was, the smile was there. Soft, bashful, and hopeful, it was. _“Wait… Lexa, what’s going on?”_

Lexa snaps out of her memory. “What do you mean?” 

_“You like her!”_ Anya whisper-shrieks in revelation, and when Lexa doesn’t respond, she nods to herself in conviction, _“you do! You’re not denying it. Wow, Lexa, uh, I’m impressed.”_

“There’s nothing to be impressed by, Anya. We’re barely friends.” 

_“Well, does she know the story then, about how you found her picture, and went through the entire Marine Corps trying to find the owner, but you didn’t, so you walked all the way there to find her?”_

“No.” Lexa twiddles her thumbs together, suddenly uncomfortable with the direction that the conversation is heading to. She doesn’t know if she could put her thoughts into words, and she doesn’t know if those words would make any sense. “I just… I can’t find the right words to say. And she’s been through so much, Anya, losing her brother in war like that. I don’t think… I don’t want to bring it up so that it can hurt her all over again. She’s doing well, relatively, now, and I can’t be a constant reminder of her brother’s death, of how unfairly things work in the world, when some of us get to come back home, yet others who were on the same battlefield don’t.” As she rambles on, Anya listens silently. She doesn’t mention the fact that she feels selfish too, not telling Clarke about how she really ended up on the farm. But she doesn’t want to ruin this, whatever it is, when finally she has this one good thing in her life. She just wants to heal. 

_“I know.”_ Anya finally says. Of course she knows. It’s the burden they forever shoulder, it’s destroying someone else’s home, and having a home of your own to go back to; it’s seeing your friends getting killed, and walking away in one piece; it’s telling someone that their loved ones are dead, and holding your family tight as they sob into your chest, glad that you are still here; it’s the loss, it’s the hurt, it’s the guilt. _“We bear it, so they don’t have to.”_

Raven saunters back into the screen, with a pizza box in her hand, two pieces already missing. She glances back and forth between the other two, slightly confused and alarmed, _“did I interrupt something? Looks like you were having a serious conversation.”_

Lexa pleads through her eyes, to put an end to this topic. 

Anya knows she doesn’t like talking about this in front of Raven. In some way or another, Lexa still feels incredibly responsible for her girlfriend’s injury. She worries at her lower lip, before feigning a smile and reaching for a slice of pizza, _“no love, Lexa’s just worried that we’re gonna have no place to live when we visit her.”_

“It’s true, I only have one bedroom with a twin-sized spring bed.” Lexa recovers, and teases, although her voice sounds tight and her laugh forced. 

_“Well, you two better get used to sleeping on the floor then.”_ Raven claims the bed immediately, and blows her friend a kiss before ending the call, _“I’m excited though! It’ll be great! Ok cool, just thought we’d tell you as soon as we can, goodnight, Commander, can’t wait to see ya!”_

“Yeah, me too, Rae. Can’t wait t—” The call ends abruptly, cutting her off. Lexa stares back at the screen, now filled with just her own reflection. 

_We bear it, so they don’t have to._

She pulls out her wallet, and digs through the folds until she finds the photo. Clarke’s smile is so bright and radiant, it makes it hard to look away. Lexa knows she’d give anything to see that smile return to the woman that once looked so happy, so content, like she is bigger than life itself. With cautious hands and a heavy heart, she tucks the photo under the bulky volume of Voltaire on her nightstand. It won’t resolve the raging war inside her head, oh never, the war has been raging on for as long as she remembers. But at least, for tonight, she can lie in bed and replay the sound of her name rolling off Clarke’s tongue again and again, till she passes out in exhaustion, till nightmares can plague her mind. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I promised to update every other Friday but I'm running late. A whirlwind of recent breakup and college junior year coming to an end has produced a fair amount of anxiety and depression, which I'm realizing as I type that you're not here for, so I'm not gonna send out the invite to my pity party. 
> 
> Please leave comments, kudos, or pop by my Tumblr. I really appreciate all of it, and it keeps me going. 
> 
> I do make adjustments to my story accordingly, too. I see that you want Ranya, and that's what I'm going to bring back. 
> 
> I'm also sorry that I can't reply to every single comment as I don't regularly go on this site unless I'm updating the story. But I see all of them. So thank you for reading this.


	5. Good Mourning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke opens up more about her brother to Lexa. Finn is still being an a-hole to his son and ex-wife, but Lexa won't allow it.

Good mourning

 

June 26 th 2015

The Griffins are unusually quiet in the morning. Abby sits in the garden collecting flowers, while Aden munches at his cereal absentmindedly. Clarke stands in front of her drawer for a long while with no motivation to make a selection from her dark colored dresses. Instead, her hand reaches for a framed photo, tucked away neatly into the furthest corner of the cabinet. 

It was taken a long time ago. A boy and a girl, each with a head of stunning blonde hair, sitting on the beach and making a sand castle. 

A year ago, Sergeant Jacob Griffin Jr. had died in Iraq during an operation to rescue hostages. Before the white marble headstone for honorable Marines that have fallen, Clarke holds Abby and Aden’s hands in silence. Tears streaming down her eyes as they read the names engraved on the epitaph, as they pray for and speak eulogies about a brave man, a son, a brother, a kind soul, a person loved by many. 

Clarke places the flowers in front of her brother’s grave, wipes the dust on the flawless marble stone, whispering ‘I love you’s and ‘I miss you’s. 

Then she spends the entire afternoon sitting in the garden, her fingers playing with the edge of her dress. 

Aden has asked Lexa to his room, they played a game of chess before he took a nap. It leaves her standing at the window at the end of second floor hallway, watching Clarke mourn. 

At first, Clarke tries to clean the weeds off the short walls that wind their tentacles around the garden, finding herself calm and solemn. But peace is a concept that she has a hard time wrapping her mind around it. Every time, it floats by, slips through her fingers, and disappears in thin air. She becomes irritated, by the weeds, by the wall, by herself. 

She is angry, she knows, angry at her father for refusing aggressive treatment, angry at her brother for not returning from battle, angry at herself for being angry. That anger has been brewing in the pit of her stomach, gnawing at her organs for too long, and it is rapidly bubbling to the surface. 

Her hand has trembled as she lifts a flowerpot, it falls and breaks into pieces beside her feet. It is the final straw on a camel’s back, and something inside her snaps. “NO! NO! Why Jacob, why! Fuck you! Fuck you Jesus fucking Christ!” Her teary voice is quivering in hysteria. She hefts another pot, smashing it into the ground, pulling dead plants out from their roots, snatching at the veins on bricks, dirt and mud and twigs and thorns flying in the air, and her hand bleeds. From the gnarly bite of the thorn that runs along ring finger to the center of her palm, her blood pearls up, prettily like sweet sap seeping out from the tree barks under a hot summer day. Red flowers soon blooming and doting the ground in its wake. She is all but numb to the pain. 

Lexa catches the red stains, so she practically flies down the stairs. “Clarke! Clarke don’t. Stop.” When Clarke shoulders her away, and throws another pot on the ground, she locks her arms around Clarke’s waist from behind. 

Clarke starts kicking and thrashing in the strong hold, but she can’t escape the firm embrace. The moment is all chaos breaking loose. 

Lexa winces at the blunt pain on her shin, but she holds onto the woman. 

“Let go of me! Let go…” Clarke thrashes around in the iron confine, feeling like some kind of dying sea creature flapping in a tangled web of fishnet. She curses Lexa and she curses her brother, her nails sinking into the woman’s taunt muscle, smearing her own blood across the scarred skin. It’s so hard to breathe, with strangling weeps interrupted by hiccups, her lungs burn, her eyes burn. The rampage of her heartbeat, the sharp pain shooting up in waves up her hand, and the ringing in her ears are so overwhelming to her senses, her world is warped into a weird tunnel of colorless lights and endless dark, of scalding hot and freezing cold, of muted buzzes and deafening screeches. 

“Shh…” Lexa shushes gently, careful with the strength of her hold, steady and strong, but no more forceful than necessary. “Pressure across the body reduces your heart rate, metabolic rate, and muscle tone. Follow my voice, Clarke, feel yourself calm down… I’ve got you.” She assures and reassures in soft murmurs, her fists unclenching as Clarke loosens the clawing clutch on her. “That’s right, Clarke, you’re doing great. I’ve got you.” 

Clarke feels her body grow heavy, like a deflating balloon, anger and frustration blowing off with every breath. Her heaving turns into symbolic squirms, then settles down into fits of sobs. 

Lexa slowly backs them away from the shattered pieces, the back of her knees comes into contact with the bench against the wall. She sits down, and lets the woman sit in her lap. Running a hand over the golden tresses, she rests her cheek against a trembling shoulder. “It’s okay… It’s alright.” Her shin still hurts like a bitch, and her forearm is marred by scratches as if she just got mauled by a wildcat, but she is thankful in the moment to feel Clarke’s skin under her palm, the fragrance of her shampoo in her nose. 

The woman slowly relaxes, her back softens, and head lolls back to rest against Lexa’s. After several minutes, Clarke realizes the position they are in, and awkwardly extracts herself from the embrace to sit next to Lexa on the bench, but she doesn’t shun away from the soothing contact, finding solace in how the calloused palm moves in circles on her back as she snivels. 

Lexa respectfully withdraws her hand when Clarke stops sniffling, she drapes her arm on the back of the bench, her warmth still encircling the woman. 

Clarke doesn’t admit that she misses the feeling almost instantly. She breaks the silence in an exhausted, hoarse voice, “at first, they wouldn’t tell us anything… how he died, where he died… just that friendly fire is a possibility.” 

Lexa shuts her eyes at those words.  
“So, it’s been a year today, and the official investigation into the death of Sergeant… Jacob… Griffin Jr., is still on going.” Her lips quivering, “that’s the worst part—not knowing. I would give anything… I would give anything to know that he didn’t die for nothing.” 

They sit together for a few minutes, both processing Clarke’s words, before she continues, “we were inseparable as kids, you know. We did everything together. We built that wall together.” She lets out a light chuckle, “well, Jacob… Jacob built the wall. I supervised, which consisted mostly of me drinking ice tea and reading Brontes.” Suddenly, she remembers something, a playful glimmer lights up in her eyes. “Oh! This one day, I couldn’t find my book anywhere, so I asked him about it, and he just pointed. Look…” Her finger traces the edge of the wall behind them, motioning Lexa to follow. 

At first she can’t make out what Clarke is pointing at, but upon further investigation, she discovers the spine of a book sealed and packed tightly in between the mud-covered bricks. 

“I was so mad! I was so mad at him. He just laughed like it was the funniest prank he ever pulled on me.” Clarke giggles, doubling over as her laughter grow inside her stomach. Lexa feels obligated to pull a tight smile. But as seconds tick away, the laughter finally turns into small whimpers, then weak weeps interrupted by a few hiccups. “It was… it was ridicu—” 

Lexa once again brings her into a tight hug, allowing Clarke to bury her face in the crook of her neck, desperate fingers digging into her shoulder. She doesn’t think much before laying a tender kiss on the crown of the blonde head. 

Clarke melts at the feeling of soft lips in her hair, but also quickly is made aware that she has put most of her body weight on the marine officer. With a blush, she straightens up from the embrace and wipes at her tear stained face, “I’m sorry… that was… inappropriate.” 

“It’s okay.” Lexa lets her go, but eyes at the woman’s hand that is now covered in dry blood, “can I…?” She points. 

Clarke shyly but trustingly rests her palm in hers. 

At a quick glance, it isn’t a particularly deep cut, and doesn’t seem to require stitches, thankfully. Lexa still examines the cut closely, “you’ve got a great laugh, you know that?” It makes the both of them pause, blue eyes curiously staring her back in surprise. She quickly darts her eyes down again, “I wish I can… hear it more.” 

“Why don’t you try tell me a joke?” Clarke can’t tell if Lexa is being serious or not. 

Lexa shrugs, and makes a half-hearted attempt at a humorous response, “well, you gotta get a few beers in me before I start telling jokes.” 

“Okay…” 

“Okay?” Lexa quirks one eyebrow, and smiles gently. 

Nodding weakly, Clarke pushes herself to stand up, her legs feel wobbly and tired. 

“Good,” is all she says before she gets up to her feet and leads themselves back into the house. She makes a beeline to the bathroom and finds some iodine solution and cotton balls, along with a roll of thin gauze. 

Clarke catches a glimpse of the red lines on Lexa’s arm where she’d marked with her short nails. “I… I’m really sorry, for this.” Her face feels flushed, guilty and sheepish, like a small child. 

“Don’t be.” Lexa sits down next to her by the table, and gestures for her hand. 

The antiseptic stings, just a little, but she hardly notices it when the back of her hand is tingling pleasantly with every tender stroke Lexa puts there. When the gauze is wrapped neatly around her palm, and the bandaid on her finger, she wordlessly takes the bottle of solution in her hand, and starts to clean out the few scratches on Lexa’s forearm that broke the skin. 

Lexa stares at Clarke’s profile in awe. Her heart is swelling to a bursting point. 

It’s like some kind of symbolism one can only see in a rom-com movie. Oh how she’s yearned for a gentle hand that heals, and how she’s wished that it would be Clarke’s, that one day, they’d be ones to heal each other. 

Maybe they do. 

 

Later in the evening, Clarke is finally able to pull herself out of the dark headspace filled with death and sadness, she goes to clean up the garden, only to find it already tidy as before, minus a few pots and plants. She doesn’t have to guess to know who has done it. 

Aden has been upset too. So she spends the rest of the day watching TV with her son, and they read Harry Potter together before bed. Clarke corrects some words at times, but her thoughts constantly drifts to a certain person and those expressive green eyes, softer than summer breeze. 

 

 

July, 2015

It seems that she has not only won over the people on the farm, but the animals absolutely adore her as well. Lexa treats the dogs much like her subordinates, firm but affectionate. However, unlike her human subordinates, dogs have less personal boundaries. It is how she finds herself on the ground, attacked by nibbles and licks, a Schnauzer and a Pappillon trampling all over her. The Kangal is easily the size of a pony, who nearly throws her in the sky when he chases his smaller counterparts that run between her legs. Hades observes with watchful eyes, and steps in when she needs rescue, but more often than not, his meddling causes bigger chaos, with louder barks and more swaging tails. 

Abby is delighted when the troublesome Leonberger became obedient under Lexa’s rein. Aden volunteers to help her give the dog a shower as he has nothing to do in the early days of his summer break. The boy enjoys every bit of it, even the part when he spilled dog shampoo all over the place, on his own shirt and Lexa’s. 

“Shake!” He shouts after rinsing the bubbles from the brown fur, to which the dog gladly obeys, making him giggle. Then he pats the dog dry with some help from the Marine Officer. As Lexa brushes the dog’s shiny fur, Aden curiously studies the dog tags on a silver chain hanging loosely around her neck. He flips each one over to read the engraved letters. “What’s the black dog tag for?”

She holds them both in her palm, “this, is mine, it has my blood type in case of an emergency. The black one is in memorial of my good friend Ryder. He died in an operation.” 

“So… they’re like friendship bracelets?” 

“Yeah, yeah you can say that.” Lexa smiles at the way he puts it so innocently. 

The dog whimpers and rolls over, satisfied with the brushing. 

“Oh boy! I think he’s has enough.” She straightens up and blows the fallen strands of fur off the brush. She eyes the boy devilishly, her voice dropping an octave in a threatening manner, “now your turn.” 

Aden shrieks, scrambles up from the floor and runs from the thick brush. “No way!!! No!!”

“Get back here! I’m gonna make a Marine outta you!” She gets up and chases him. Dog fur flutters in the air, like trifling lights falling through the sky. 

“Mommy!” Aden dashes to the other side of the farm where Clarke and Abby are gardening, but Lexa has already caught up with him.

She pretends to be just a tenth of a second too late to catch him, until he reaches for his mother’s arm, still screaming and giggling. “Your mommy can’t save you now. They don’t call me the Commander for nothing!” 

Abby laughs at their antics. Clarke just rolls her eyes and plays along. “Oh really? The Commander?” she says defiantly, “well you know who I am?” 

Lexa tries to ignore the way her stomach lurches funnily as she looks into the mischievous blue eyes, “why should I care? Give me the boy.” 

“You should care, because I am the Sky Princess that fell down to earth in a ball of fire.” She just makes something up completely without any context. 

Lexa chuckles. But she pulls her best scary face, scathing and fierce, “so you are the one that defeated three hundred of my best warriors!” 

“You are the one who sent them after my son.” 

And thus starts a tradition of roleplaying game they’d revisit in many years to come. 

 

 

July 6 th 2015

When Aden learns about her nickname in the Marine Corps, Lexa is immediately dubbed ‘the K9 Commander’ because ‘dog whisperer’ is too generic a nickname. She deserves the title, though, for successfully training a Pekinese to do the agility tricks its unreasonable owner has demanded. Now Cooper, the Pekinese, knows how to run through a tube, jump over fences, and score a soccer ball in the end. 

Lexa is showing Cooper’s owner some techniques and hand gestures to further train the dog, when a black Toyota pulls up in the drive, distracting the dog. Finn has come to pick Aden up to a Football game with the local kids. 

Dogs seem to have adapted a suspicious attitude toward the man. They growl and bark and claw from behind the fences. Finn does not like them either, scowling as he walks pass the kennels. 

The boy stands on the porch looking uncomfortable in his football gear. The helmet is too big on his thin shoulders, and the padding makes it hard to breathe for him. But he is going to play anyway, because it made Finn smile when he agreed, and there is nothing in the world that he wouldn’t do to make him proud. 

“Daddy! I’ve been practicing a tackle all week!” He runs up to him, tries to sound excited. 

“That’s my boy!” Finn lets out a belly laugh, and opens the passenger’s seat for him. 

Clarke strides over to the Deputy. 

“How’s the old soldier barbie working out for ya?” He points in Lexa’s direction with his chin. 

She ignores his obnoxious gesture, “hey, do me a favor, okay? Try to remember that this is a charity game.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t push him too hard, okay?”

“Hey,” Finn snaps his fingers at her, “you know what? When Aden’s on your time, he gets to do whatever you want, you can play poker, you can pet the puppies, play fiddle, whatever. But when he’s with me, we do it my way.” 

“Have a good time, sweetie.” She pushes past him and kisses the boy on the forehead. 

“Bye mom!” 

“ _You_ give the kid some room to breathe, to be a man.” Finn keeps glaring at her until she retreats back into the house. 

The car pulls away, tires screeching against the edge of the road. Cooper jumps over the fence and abandons the obstacles Lexa has set up for him, barking and chasing after the car. 

“Hey! Cooper come back!” Lexa hurdles over the fence with ease, her motion so smooth and fast that it leaves the blonde astonished. Clarke watches in awe as she jumps over yet another fence and runs across the field to catch the dog. 

 

By the time peace is restored in the farm, Clarke has loaded the truck with flowers that she’s hoping to sell at the farmer’s market. They are selling home-grown plants to support Abby’s church. And unsurprisingly, at the farmer’s market, she runs into Monty and Miller, hand in hand, picking up vegetables and fruits. 

“Com’on, Clarke! Take her out sometime!” And they haven’t stopped badgering her since they wandered over to her stand. Well, they can hardly be blamed because Clarke has hidden the Marine Officer so well that they start to suspect she’s invented this person due to her everlasting solitude. 

“Yeah, we want to see her sometime, if she’s really as ‘gorgeous’ with ‘cheekbones to die for’ as rumor has it.” Monty adds, “plus, Abby makes it out like she works way to hard, you should give her some break.” 

Clarke rolls her eyes at her gossipy friends, “pff, what rumor? Plus I give her plenty of breaks, Lexa just likes to do her own stuff, you two leave her alone.”

“Woooo, so it’s Lex-a already, isn’t it?” The couple tease. 

“Okay, okay, I give. I’m done with you two.” Clarke raises her hands in surrender, kissing both of her friends on the cheek to tell them she’ll be leaving soon. Though with a dozen bouquets of flowers unsold, she decides to go home early to avoid further inquires. She is not in the mood anyways, it makes her nervous every time Aden spends time with Finn, and it breaks her heart to see her son defeated and disappointed, time after time when Finn can never be pleased no matter what he does. 

 

When she finally arrives home, she can’t find Lexa anywhere. Maybe she took the liberty and wandered off to buy some supplies. So she changes into her casual clothes, waiting for Finn to take Aden back. Hours later, in the middle of her doing laundry, the car blows its horn outside. Clarke peeps through the window to find Finn carrying their son out of the backseat, a cast on his little arm. 

Panicking, she jumps to her feet and hastens out of the house, “oh god! Oh my god! What happened!?” 

“He just slips on his foot.” Finn crosses his arms, disappointment thick in his tone. 

Aden glances sadly at his father, he gives his mother a one-armed hug, and goes back into the house defeatedly. 

“I’ll be right in, sweetie.” Clarke kisses him on the head softly. As he disappears inside, she glares at the man with anger that can burn holes in his stupid, clueless face. 

Finn shrugs incredulously, as if he has done nothing wrong, “what? It was an _accident_!” 

“You just can’t see it, do you?”

“See what?” 

“That boy will run through a brick wall for you!” 

“What does that have to do with him not being able to run a touchdown?” His face is distorted by the scorn as he looms over her, “huh?” 

“Ok, don’t worry about it. Please just go home, Finn.” Clarke starts to feel cornered, she turns her back on him and walks away. 

Finn, however, feels insulted and mistreated. He catches up to his ex-wife, and grabs her wrist, “hey, wait a minute! Hey! Who do you think you’re talking to?” 

“Finn! Calm down.” Clarke’s words only make his grip tighter. 

“No you calm down! Let me tell you something, that’s my son in there too, you know. And I can take him away any time I want. You got that?”

“Let go of my arm, Finn. Let go of me!” The dull pain in her wrist triggers a fresh wave of gut-wrenching panic inside her. 

He only presses closer, his floppy hair falling into his dark eyes, “what’s the matter, huh?” 

“You should do what she says.” A firm voice, composed yet demanding, comes from direction of the small receptionist room. “Let go of her.” Lexa crosses her arms in front of her chest, and eyes the man coldly without a glimmer of fear. 

Finn secretly gulps when he sees the muscles in her forearms bunching. He loosens his hand and she shrugs him off quickly. She storms into the house, trusting the Marine Officer would show him out. 

The man slowly backs away, not without a snort at her. It takes one creased eyebrow from Lexa to send him driving off like the devil is on his tail. 

 

Clarke kneels before Aden in the bathroom to inspect his bruises. “I hope this heals up before your birthday party. Your friends’ parents might think I beat you.” She jokes lovingly, despite the heartbreak she feels in her chest to see her baby injured. 

“I don’t have to have a party. Dad said I’m kinda getting old for that.” Aden casts a sad look at his mother. 

She frowns in annoyance at the mention of Finn, “that is absolutely ridiculous! Of course you’re having a party. You only turn 7 once.” 

“You only turn every age once.” The boy isn’t cheerful at the prospect. He takes off his gears and stands in the shower. 

Clarke can only sigh. She helps him shower, and picks up his dirty clothes after he goes into his room. A knock on the door pulls her out of the trance she didn’t notice she has been in. Lexa has come to check on her. 

“Thank you for that.” Clarke lets her in. As they stare at each other in silence, realization dawns on her, and a gentle warmth tugged at her heartstrings. She knows instinctively that she feels — she is— more comfortable and safe around Lexa than she’s ever been with Finn. 

“Sorry I overheard…” she asks gingerly, “can he really take Aden away?”

“You haven’t met Finn’s father.” 

“Why don’t you just leave the area?” 

Clarke stuffs the final pieces of laundry into the machine, and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “If I try to take Aden away from him, I can lose him altogether.” Her voice breaks a little from the potential of her worst nightmares coming true. 

“It’s none of my business. But… um… how did the two of you end up… I mean, what…”

“What possessed me to fall into bed with him?” Clarke says sarcastically, but soon remembers it isn’t Lexa’s fault of any sort, she bites her lip to quell her frustration. “Sorry. It was senior year, my father had passed away, and I was grieving. I used sex to fill the void, or to numb my feelings, whatever. He was there, and he was the captain of the football team, charming, considerate, at the time. So we both got drunk, I thought I was in love, I thought he was the one that can take away the pain. Thing is, I didn’t quite realize he just might be the biggest asshole in this universe.” Clarke walks back to face the woman, “but I don’t want to go anywhere else. This is our home, has been forever. There’s so many memories… my father, and my brother… And, whatever else Finn might be, he’ll always be the father of my son.” 

Lexa listens quietly, sympathetically, and supportively. But words have never been her strong suit, she finds herself once again unable to provide adequate consolation. “I just wanted to make sure you’re ok.” 

“… Thank you.” Clarke gives her genuine smile. It has been a long time since her brother’s death that she feels truly safe after an encounter with Finn like that. Jacob would’ve kicked Finn’s ass. But Lexa with her wordless threats and the eye daggers? Lexa is a whole new level of ‘hurt her, I will fuck you up’. But it is more than that. It is Lexa’s gentle nature, her protectiveness, and her confidence that has made her feel warm from the inside.

Clarke gravitates to the comforting presence of the woman, like bird seeking shelter in the rain, like insect attracted to the blossom, like sunflower finally finding the light, like inevitable, like unstoppable. 

And she searches long in those sincere eyes, greener than the forest, greener than the lake. 

And for the first time she lets herself really take in every detail of the chiseled face, the impeccable cheekbones, the sharp jawline, the pink, plump, pouty lips, and she thinks back to what her friends has said, _Lexa is ungodly gorgeous_. 

It is Lexa who breaks the eye contact first, a suspicious red cloud tainting her tanned cheeks. Something has changed in the woman’s demeanor, she can tell by the fluttering eyelashes, the glance that rests a second too long at her lips, and the hot breath that ghosts her skin. It makes her palms sweat, little butterflies flapping their wings in her stomach, and her throat dry like she’s been in the desert for a three-day march. “Well then, I’ll see you in the morning?” She pleads through her eyes, because if she read the signs wrong, and Clarke didn’t mean it in a way more than friendly and appreciative, it’d probably end in a disaster for her heart. Hades is a nice distraction, she whistles to get his attention, “let’s go, buddy.” The dog rolls up from where he is laying on the porch, eagerly obliges. As she goes, she can still feel the blazing gaze on her back. 

Clarke bites back her words, feeling slightly dejected. Then she chastises herself, for being clingy and needy. A moment of weakness, it is. Lexa didn’t mean anything by interfering, it is what anybody would do. And she sure doesn’t need anyone to defend her honor, she can take care of herself just fine. 

But from the surface of the window, she sees her reflection, there is a sparkle in her eyes, and the fast thudding in her chest is getting louder and louder with each passing second of silence. Before the brunette reaches the driveway, she is running barefoot onto the porch, shouting at the top of her lungs, “hey Lexa!” 

The German Shepherd whips around, enthusiastic at the sound of his owner’s name. Lexa, however, pauses for a good second before turning. 

“When are we gonna get that drink?”

Lexa visibly swallows, her voice coarse still, “I won’t forget.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading and leaving comments! I really genuinely enjoy reading every single one of them. I am also starting to recognize those few names that always pop up at each chapter, please know that I really appreciate you! I will try to get better at replying and stuff because I want to make friends!


	6. The not-date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke finally takes Lexa to town for that promised drink, despite trying to convince everybody it's not a date. Well, who is she kidding?

**The not-date**

 

July 8 th 2015

“It’s just a casual beer between coworkers.” Clarke pokes her head into Abby’s room, having heard her mother murmuring ‘about time’. 

“Mmmhmmm.” Abby takes off her reading glasses to give her daughter ‘the look’. 

Clarke rolls her eyes at the her mother. “It’s not a date.” 

“What? Did I say it is?”

With a mocked sigh, she walks off to her room. Instead of getting outfit advices from Abby, she turns to her son for help. 

“Mom, are you seeing someone?” The boy has never seen her searching in her wardrobe for a night out like this. There is a certain element of desperation in her rummaging. 

She doesn’t know what to say to Aden, because what is this really? Lexa didn’t say anything when she agreed to this night out to town and grab some drinks together thing. Surely she doesn’t think it is a date? “No honey, I’m not seeing anybody.” 

“What about Lexa?” He asks, “aren’t you going out with her? She told me that you are getting some drinks tonight so she went home to change.”

“She… told you that?” _Lexa went home to change for this?_ It makes her tummy fuzzy at the thought of Lexa dressing up in something nicer than her usual lumberjack flannel and military training shirts. 

“I asked because she can’t stay for dinner.” Aden keeps going through her closet. “So is it a date, mom? Are you seeing Lexa?” 

“……” Clarke has lost her ability of speech. She doesn’t dare to think how her son would feel if they… if they got together. 

“It’s ok, mom. I like her, she’s really cool.” He pulls out a simple short sleeved dot patterned white blouse and a black skirt to go with it, handing it off to his mother who trusts his judgement fully. 

Clarke changes into it, and finds it a wee bit shorter than she thought. But the skirt definitely does wonders to show off her legs. The blouse hugs her waist snuggly, leaves a tiny little peep to her cleavage, and adds an emphasize on her collarbones. Her boosted ego makes her decide to let her hair down from the bun she always wears, golden tresses falling to each side of her face, framing the heart shape. 

“I think she’s good for you.” Aden comments off-handedly. 

But to Clarke, it is more like a small pebble falling into the lake and causing an avalanche. It isn’t that she doesn’t believe in relationships, because her friends, Monty and Nathan, and Harper and Zoe, they are so in love and so happy, sometimes a painful reminder to her actually, that how incredibly alone she is. It is just that the thought of dating, the thought of having someone—someone as good, as kind, as beautiful as Lexa—to hold her at night, to kiss her sadness away, to quench the thirst that sometimes engulfs her senses—she blushes at that and turns her face from her son for his benefit—well, it honestly hasn’t crossed her mind ever since she has Aden. “Aww, honey, we’re not like that. Not yet. Tonight, it’s just a friendly thing, ok? Now promise me you’ll be a good boy for grandma and go to bed on time.” She kisses him gently on the head, not wanting to disappoint him, not wanting to disappoint herself if this ends up being nothing but a silly crush and unrequited pining. 

“Oh.” Aden whines, but pinky promises her. 

“Now, help me pick out some shoes!”

 

******

Lexa comes out of the shower and fumbles in her closet knowing fully well she doesn’t have a lot of options. She can’t even remember the last time she’s owned a dress. It is probably senior prom, but definitely was not her choice either. Just not her cup of tea. 

The majority of her attires are Marine uniforms, training t-shirts, suits, and dress pants. 

“Haven’t you stolen a pair of my black jeans, which are in fact, my brand new pair of Levi’s.” Anya cranes her neck as if that would help her see better from the small FaceTime screen. 

Lexa digs through her closet and sheepishly holds the pair up. “It wasn’t on purpose. They just ended up at the bottom of my pile of laundry.” 

“Sure they did.” Anya rolls her eyes at her friend. “Put them to good use. They go well with your motorcycle boots, for gay aesthetics or whatever.”

Lexa decides to go along with a simple grey v-neck t-shirt, and a light jean jacket, the one she’d given to Clarke to cover up after that day at the pond. She makes sure to roll the up the edge of the sleeves of her t-shirt before checking her reflection in the mirror, then quickly picks up a few strands of hair to add some small braids. 

“Not bad, huh?” She receives an affirmation from Anya first, then she looks at Hades, who gives her an uninterested glance, not invested in what all the fuss is about. 

 

******

Clarke picks Lexa up at the cabin. She is pleasantly surprised to see the outfit Lexa has picked out for herself. It is casual, of course, but new to the eyes, and yet everything is so well in character: the brooding gay look fits Lexa. 

The usually confident and laid-back woman seems slightly nervous though, as she climbs into the car, and mumbles a small ‘hello’. Lexa is quiet during the ride too, perfectly perched on the seat, her hands resting flat on her knees. But Clarke knows, she feels it, once in a while, stolen glances are casted her way. 

It is hard not to stare, Lexa has given up the pretense that she is not intensely attracted to the woman sitting beside her in that skirt. Well, it isn’t just because of the skirt, but seriously, the smooth skin on Clarke’s thighs, and the taunt muscle in her calves, and shapely ankles accentuated by the straps of her stilettos… She quickly redirects her attention away before it would be considered rude, and yet, her eyes have a mind of their own, wandering back to the left side of the car every now and then. 

Clarke doesn’t mean to be a tease, she doesn’t! Okay, maybe just a little. She pulls up to a stop in line that has collected as they come close to downtown, she arches her back to see what is going on. Inadvertently, her skirt hikes up her legs for just a fraction of an inch. She knows Lexa saw it, because of the smallest hitch in her breath that breaks their otherwise silence. 

Clearing her throat after almost running out of air, Lexa squeezes her eyes shut. Great, she must have been acting like a sex-deprived teenager. The hot mess in her lower belly travels its way further down, and soon enough, begins the pounding in between her legs. She shifts her position with subtlety, annoyed at the way her underwear clings to her sensitive nether region uncomfortably. 

 

After the excruciating ride to the bar, excruciating for Lexa while rather enjoyable for Clarke who secretly likes the attention, they run into Harper and Monroe. It is the first time Lexa has ever met Clarke’s friends. Abby talked about them obviously, but it never occurred to her just how beautiful and sexy her friends actually are. A churning sensation brews in the pit of her stomach as she watches Clarke greet her friends with kisses and hugs. 

But quickly, the two strangers turn to her. Harper purses her lips and gives Clarke a look as if she is impressed. Monroe is the first to break the ice and extends her hand out to shake Lexa’s. 

So the Marine Officer introduces herself, and invites them to sit together for a while. She finds out, with quite the relief, that the two are dating each other, and decides that she likes them after all. What she likes even more, is when they crack jokes at Clarke’s expense, making her blush oh so prettily under the flaring lights. 

“So… why’d you enlist?” Harper can’t stop asking questions. As soon as she opens her mouth, she feels a kick under the table and sees Clarke giving her a warning look. “Ouch! Sorry, is that rude to ask?”

Lexa smiles, “oh, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. It’s uh… it runs in the family.” 

“So your father’s a Marine too?” 

“He's passed away, but he was, and so was his father before him.” Lexa brings her hand up to rub at the silver chain that links her dog tags. 

Harper bites her lip, not sure how to proceed. Monroe just reaches across the table and places her hand on the brunette’s forearm to offer her condolences, “I’m really sorry to hear that.” 

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago.” Lexa shares a bit more about her long family history serving in the Marine Corps, and Clarke finds it absolutely fascinating. 

“Wait hold up! You speak four languages?” Harper exclaims over spilling alcohol. 

“Yes, apart from English, I know German, Arabic, and Trigedasleng.” 

Clarke asks what her friends aren’t asking, “what is Trigedasleng?” 

Lexa explains to them that it is a dialect spoken by her tribe Trikru. “People of the tree, we are. And there had been war, decades of war among the thirteen tribes. My great great great great… I don’t even know how many generations ago… great grandmother, was the uniter of the tribes, she brought peace for our people. But after the European colonization, our ancestors had to adapt to western civilization because it was the only way to survive. Some married ‘outsiders’. I’m a quarter Trikru, but I have blood relatives still living on our lands, and I take pride in knowing my ancestry and speaking its language. We pride ourselves as skilled warriors too, so it really is no surprise that many became soldiers, Marines, airmen. Actually, my buddy Anya, who was my superior back when I was fresh out of bootcamp is also Trikru.” 

“Wow…” Harper and Monroe are utterly entranced by her story, they are leaning on their elbows like little kids by the time Lexa has finished. Clarke, on the other hand, is amazed by not only the things that she never knew about Lexa, but also her passion as she tells her story, the way her hands move in the air, and how her expression changes through the good memories and the bad ones. She is perfectly content with just staring at Lexa for hours on end, listening to her soft voice, smiling at the sound of her laugh. Her first drink is still half full, but whenever Lexa looks at her thoughtfully and gently, pausing for a second or two to make sure she is feeling engaged, Clarke feels her heart swoon and her stomach warm like the buzzed feeling alcohol sometimes brings.  
Monroe has proposed another pitcher of Wisconsin’s finest brew, but Lexa politely declines. She likes the buzz, but has sworn after a night out with Lincoln and Octavia that it is not something she’ll do again. She really wants to stay sober, to savor the moments when her arm brushes against Clarke’s, and the side of their pinkies touch when their hands rest on the bench under the table. 

“So, tell us what you do in the Marine Corps.” 

“I’m second in charge of a weapon platoon. We have sections of rifle squad, missiles, explosives, and choppers…” She tries to simplify how things work under her command, which is rather hard for non-military folks to grasp. 

Monroe regrets that she asked, things just fly right over her head. Harper tries to follow, but confusion also grows on her face. Clarke listens on, although she isn’t necessarily an expert, her brother had explained stuff before, and she is again, happy in her quiet corner just watching Lexa articulate with her purposeful gestures and focused expressions, erudite and professional in her own element. 

“They call her _the Commander_ , because she’s in control of things.” Clarke sums it up for her friends at last. 

Lexa is attentive to notice that her audience has grown quiet. “Sorry,” she leans in closer to Clarke and whispers while Harper goes to use the restroom, “am I boring you?” 

Shivers shoot up her spine and spread across her body at the warm breathe grazing over her cheek. Looking into the bashful green eyes, she adores how they sparkle under the starry sky. “No, but you, and your girlfriend, are boring the hell out of me.” She says pointedly at Monroe. 

Monroe puts a hand on her chest, feigning hurt. Harper comes back soon after, “what did I miss?” And Monroe whispers something in her ear. Then they look cheekily at Clarke and their new friend, “we should probably get going then.” “Yeah, our bad that we totally forgot that blondie here, has already placed a reservation on your night, _Commander_. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Lexa, and you’re as wonderful as Abby said. Hope you enjoy the rest of your date!” With winks and grins, the two stumble out of the booth and giggle all the way to the dance floor. 

Thoroughly teased, Lexa is blushing profusely. 

“Sorry about them.” Clarke’s cheeks are equally flushed. 

Lexa shakes her head with a chuckle. “They’re nice.” 

She feels strangely relieved to hear Lexa say that, not even having registered how much her opinion about her friends means to her. She studies her for a moment, finding the way those pouty lips pout even more as she takes a sip at her beer utterly enticing. All of a sudden, an urge to be alone with this woman rises in her chest like a naughty secret waiting to burst out. She grabs Lexa’s hand, and pulls themselves to stand up, “I want to show you something. Come on, we have to go now.” 

The Marine Officer abandons her drink, and lets herself be led like some dumb animal. The palm of her hand tingles warmly at the soft touch. 

 

******

“This is where I come when I want to be alone.” A few miles away from the bar is a little pier where small boats and ships are parked in lines, floating in the swaying water. Clarke jumps off her car, walks onto the dock, and stops at a white boat with the name “Abigail” painted on the side. 

Its ivory reflection flutters on the surface of the lake. Lexa sighs dreamily, “wow, she is a beauty.”

“My dad grew up around boats. He was a vet, and he loved to fish. My mom couldn’t stand it, but she went every time anyway because she liked the fact that he named his boat after her.”

“He sounds like a great person. I wish I had the chance to meet him.” 

“Thank you.” Clarke gives her a genuine smile. Lexa didn’t say she is sorry, she didn’t try to make it better, her words are sincere and respectful, and it makes her think of her father fondly. “I think he would’ve really liked you. Do you want to sit in the boat with me for a bit?” 

Lexa gladly agrees. She strides over the bow railing first, and offers Clarke her hands. They share a small laugh when Clarke nearly falls over on top of her, but she easily catches the woman by her waist, and gently lets her down to the deck. 

“How chivalrous.” Clarke teases, to which Lexa smirks. The tenderness, once she started to see it, it became difficult to take her mind off of how gently Lexa treats her, not in a patronizing or objectifying way, but comfortable and natural like she can’t bear the thought of treating her any differently. Their link hands never break apart as Clarke shows Lexa the cabin and the cockpit of the boat. “Dad took Jacob fishing all the time. When he taught him how to steer this thing, he couldn’t have been more than six or seven.” 

“What about you?” Lexa curiously observes her movements around the place. 

“Oh, I absolutely love this boat. I know she doesn’t look like much now, but she was really fine back in the days.” 

“We should take her out sometime.” Lexa suggests. 

Clarke chuckles, patting the steering wheel affectionately, “oh no no no, we can’t even get her starts now.” 

“That’s too bad.” Lexa wonders if it can be fixed, but she says nothing more because she doesn’t want Clarke to get her hopes up. 

They end up sitting on the deck and looking at the stars, still hand in hand. Lexa points out a few constellations, and Clarke asks her which one is her favorite. 

“I don’t really have one, honestly.” She has said, “because I spend the longest time looking at the moon.” 

“Why?” Clarke has asked, scooting closer to share the woman’s body heat. Though it is early July, a night out on a Wisconsin lake can still get quite chilly. 

Lexa notices her slight shiver, and without hesitation, she shrugs off her jacket to wrap her companion in it. 

Cheesy as it seemed, Clarke finds herself swooning. She wasn’t sure what this is in the beginning, fooling herself and everyone else that it is just a casual drink, as innocent as it can be. But with the hand holding, with the star gazing, the story sharing, the affectionate and considerate actions, the lines are blurring and she isn’t that certain anymore. “Thanks.” 

Lexa gives her hand a small squeeze before answering her question, “because, you see different constellations during different time of the year, and it also depends on the latitude of where you are on earth, but the moon is constant, you see it no matter what season it is and where you are. I think… I find it comforting that even though I can be thousands of miles away, I will be looking at the same moon as someone back home, like Anya, or Hades…” _or you_. “Come on, let’s get back to the pickup.” 

 

Clarke whines about traffic in the city, which Lexa doesn’t really mind, so she jumps behind the wheels. They are quiet once again in the small confinement of the pickup, but secretly, they both miss being in contact with each other. As they stop at a red light, Clarke peers at Lexa, then she takes the chance and touches Lexa’s hand resting on the shifting stick in between them. At that, Lexa flips her hand over and laces their fingers together. 

From then on, they feel incredibly satisfied with just driving, and the way home almost feels too short for their liking. Lexa brings their hands into her lap, and when she has to shift gear, she’d run her thumb over Clarke’s, or squeeze softly, before letting her hand go for no longer than a moment or two. It makes the both of them chuckle when she mumbles, “hold on a sec”, then her hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair that is tickling the side of her face behind her ear. 

It definitely feels like a date. 

Sooner than both of their liking, they pulls up at Lexa’s cabin. 

“Are you okay to drive?” 

“I’ll be alright, the city just annoys me.” 

Lexa releases her seat belt, “hold on.” She slips out of the truck and rounds to the passenger’s side to open the door for Clarke. 

They make their way to the front of the car, to say goodnight. Clarke leans against the bumper of her car, her fingers walking across the hood lightly. 

Lexa mimics her, so their shoulders brush together. They are both tired, but very reluctant to see the night come to an end. 

“You do realize we’re gonna have to do this all again…”

The forrest green eyes give her a confused look. 

“You never told me that joke.” Clarke pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth, coy with her smirk. She turns slightly toward Lexa, who mirrors her movement till they are face to face. The night breeze strokes at their hair, making a few strands of brown curls fall into Lexa’s face. Clarke decides she really liked Lexa’s shampoo, it smells clean and fresh, with a hint of woodsiness, and she wonders whether it is the shampoo or Lexa herself. 

The back of her ear tingles warmly when a soft hand tucks her hair back to its place. “Well, somebody dragged me away before I can even finish my first beer.” 

“Don’t be a smart ass.” Clarke squints, her fingers pulls lightly on Lexa’s earlobe. 

“I’m sorry,” Lexa cocks her head to the side where Clarke is tugging at her and feigns hurt, “is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” The question has come out differently than she intended, more flirty, more daring. She swallows tightly. 

When green eyes flutter lower to rest on her lips, Clarke licks them in reflex. 

Lexa has to suck in a sharp breath of air to stifle the whimper in her throat. 

Clarke’s hand puts slightly more pressure on the back of her neck. Their faces inch closer and closer, and her voice comes out huskier than ever, “is this okay?” 

“Is this a date?” Lexa’s hands come to rest on her hips, neither pulling or pushing. 

“Do you want it to be a date?” Warm breathes are shared between the two of them as they look into each other’s eyes. 

It is becoming painfully hard to not push into the remaining distance. “I do. Do you?”

“I do.” 

“Okay.” Lexa nods. 

The next second, someone moves, it really doesn’t matter who, and the short distance separating their lips disappears. Their nose brush gently together as they tentatively, slowly move against each other. 

Lexa’s lips are extremely soft, even softer than she’d imagined, and she tastes like peppermint and vanilla lip balm, and she smells like lemongrass and the forests. Clarke knows, by then, that she would like nothing more than to keep kissing this woman for as long as her imaginable future allows. She opens her mouth to run her tongue over Lexa’s upper lip, drawing her in for a fuller and richer contact. 

Then Lexa pulls away with a moaned mumble, “I’m sorry… It’s just… it’s been so long.” 

“It’s alright. It’s been long for me too.” Clarke goes back to playing with Lexa’s ear, giving her the space and time she needs to recuperate. She hears the tiniest sigh, and when she looks up, she drowns into the depth of those full-blown pupils that leave only a sliver of dark green on the brim. She is falling right into the center of gravity. 

Her throat is dry, and her palms sweaty, but Lexa doesn’t move an inch, fearing that the cold of the night will engulf her without the warm body in her arms. “Can we… try again?” After receiving an enthusiastic nod as confirmation, she leans forward to press their lips together again. This time, Lexa doesn’t want, neither has she the strength, to hold back. She sneaks one hand around Clarke’s waist, draws circles with her thumb on the small of her back, and the other hand caresses the golden threads of her hair, the dimple of her chin, the apple of her cheek, taking tender care and chasing the goosebumps away. 

“Mmmm…” Clarke’s tummy tautens, her heart hammering out of her chest, and she couldn’t care less if Lexa heard it. With a louder moan, she weaves her hands through the thick brown locks, finding the intricate small braids that decorate Lexa’s gorgeous hair. The onslaught on her lips grows eager, and somehow she has anticipated that kissing Lexa would feel like this. It is nothing like Finn’s hard lips and slobbery tongue and cold nose. It is as warm as it is dominant, as soft as it is determined, it is as strong as it is gentle. It is so much like Lexa. It is all Lexa. 

Their breaths start to become labored, when hands begin wandering up and down, gliding over smooth skin and cupping luscious curves. Lexa tastes alcohol in between their breathes, and suddenly her heart drops in her stomach with heavy weariness. She doesn’t want it to be just the alcohol, that they are simply caught up in the moment, and that she is taking advantage of the woman. Liquid courage or not, she is sober and thus should be one to be held responsible. 

“What’s wrong?” Clarke notices right away when the kiss loses its momentum, Lexa’s hands coming to a stop on her back. 

“We’ve been drinking…” Lexa murmurs, feeling dejected and discouraged. 

The green eyes are the saddest that she’d even seen, and it tugs at her heartstrings to know that Lexa did not want to stop but worries it is something she’d regret. Clarke might find those puppy dog eyes adorable if she isn’t in a hurry to reassure the woman. “We had one drink.” She tries to nuzzle further into the embrace, disliking the cool air that refills the gap between them, and smiling as protective arms tighten around her. 

“And you’re sure—” She is silenced by the woman running her thumb over her kiss-swollen bottom lip. 

“I swear to god, Lexa, if you don’t put that mouth to better use.” Clarke hisses out her halfhearted threat and leaves it unfinished before crashing their lips back together. Her tongue traces Lexa’s smile on the gorgeous curve of her mouth. She hears her name morph into a single throaty sigh that echoes among the plantation of evergreens and undergrowths. She runs her fingers on Lexa’s neck, then shoulders, then her back, skin hot as fire and muscle taunt as steel. 

Ages could have gone by as they invest into this kiss, neither willing to forgo the chance of exploring the other more thoroughly, for they both know that this is merely a passing glimpse of something much better, a teasing sip of something much sweeter. 

“Lex…” The buzzing in her core becomes more and more pronounced, Clarke clings onto Lexa’s strong frame as her hips unabashedly grind into the woman’s tight stomach. 

No one has ever spoken her name like that before, like a wholehearted plea, like a loving whisper, like worshiping, like praying, like enchantment. Lexa recognizes the need in it, her own body responding at a similar frequency. She nips and licks at Clarke’s open mouth, engaging her partner in a sultry dance of nudging and sucking and biting of wet flesh. At this exact moment, Lexa wants nothing more than to remain in Clarke’s arms and confess her desperate devotion through the kiss, until the sun comes up and the forrest awakes, until her duties and responsibilities return, until the road becomes occupied by hikers and cyclists, until—

Until the sound of tires against gravel interrupts the night critter’s singing and a glaring flashlight shining upon their profiles. 

Lexa all but jumps in front of Clarke to protect her from the intrusion. She squints at the light source, and can vaguely make out the outline of a police vehicle pulled up behind their pickup. A man pops the door open and rocks crunch under his boots. “Officer, is there a problem?” She asks, tone laded with irritation. 

“Finn?” Clarke angrily goes around the taller woman, stomping over to the person that disturbed her very good night. It is not Finn, though, but she knows almost every cop in this town, “oh Danny! What the fuck are you doing? Put that thing down!” She brings a hand over her eyes. 

“You know you were going over fifty through the city?” The police officer reaches into his pocket for a speeding ticket. 

“Like hell we were!” Clarke slaps at his chubby hand and snatches away the ticket booklet. She is not afraid of him, not a single bit. Finn used to be his partner, he walked all over Danny. “Finn put you up to this, didn’t he? Didn’t he!?” She knows her floppy haired ex-husband would do anything to sabotage her date with anyone, but at least he could have done it himself instead of making Danny do it for him like a fucking coward.  
“Clarke, you need to go home. Let’s just say this never happened.” 

“No shit.” Clarke rubs at her temples. 

Lexa looks between Clarke, fuming and embarrassed, and the officer, dumb and stubborn, at a loss of what to do. “I’m sorry…” It isn’t her intention to bring complications into Clarke’s life, so an apology seems appropriate at the time. 

“No, Lexa, it’s me who should be sorry.” Clarke gives her a sad look, “I should go,” then shoves the booklet back into his chest vehemently. She climbs into the truck and snaps the door close, the front lights click on. Lexa stands to the side, her eyes casted to the ground, and her silhouette lonely and long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Your comments are very valued and appreciated, they keep me going! 
> 
> Since I'm on vacation, I will probably have a little more time to write every week, so you can look for an update next week!
> 
> Xoxo


	7. Too hot (hot damn)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's some fluff after I left you hanging in last chapter  
> The M rated content is drawing near... no spoiler, but within the next two chapters ;)

**Too hot (hot damn)**

 

July 9 th 2015

_“No, Lexa, it’s me who should be sorry.” Clarke gives her a sad look, “I should go,” then shoves the booklet back into his chest vehemently. She climbs into the truck and snaps the door close, the front lights click on. Lexa stands to the side, her eyes casted to the ground, and her silhouette lonely and long._

She drives—well over 50 mph— through the narrow country road. If the screeching sounds of tires grinding pebbles disrupt the quiet of the night, she couldn’t care less. Her night has been so, so wonderful, and the palms of her hands are warm from holding Lexa’s, and her lips are tingling with the passionate kiss they shared. Clarke runs her tongue over her bottom lip, where she can still taste the lingering sweetness of that beautiful woman with wild brown hair and a crooked smirk. “Fuck you, Finn, you asshole. Fuck.” Pulling to a sharp stop in her drive way, she has to remind herself to take in deep breaths, in and out, in and out. Her son is probably already in bed, and her mom will be concerned to see her upset. So she forces the anger and bitter disappointment away, and only stomps a little as she goes back inside her house. 

Fortunately, the house is quiet, Abby most likely dozed off while reading some medical journal in bed “for fun” as she calls it, and Aden sound asleep. She checks on her son, peeking her head into his room, and watching the small lump in the center of the bed, the cover moving up and down to the rhythm of his steady breathing. It effectively chases away the night chills on the back of her neck, and warmth once again rises in her chest. She fights the urge to snuggle in bed with him, to smell the top of his head so that she knows it is okay. She doesn’t, because her little boy is in his worry-free dreamland where he should be, and she would do anything in the world to avoid bringing any more sadness and trouble to his young life. 

Clarke doesn’t know how long she sat on the edge of her bed, or when she fell asleep. But she shudders awake in the middle of the night with a strange tightness in her chest. She rolls out of bed, confused as of why she is half naked in only her bra and panties, and goes to put on her silk kimono robe. She pads down the stairs barefoot, and hears a soft knocking on the front door. Oh, maybe that is what woke her up, she’s always been a light sleeper comparing to her son and her mother who can ride out an apocalypse in their dreams. But who can it be, at three in the morning? She tightens the belt of her robe before answering the door, her fingers momentarily trace the length of the smooth material, thin as air. She opens a small crack on the door to see who is on the other side, leaving the screen door in place. The translucent texture of the screen reveals the profile of a woman’s figure, tall and svelte.

“Lexa.” 

The screen door flies out of the way in a split second. Clarke finds herself wrapping her arms on Lexa’s shoulders, fingers threading into the luscious brown curls, and pulling the woman in as closely as she can physically manage. A pair of hot, soft, plump lips immediately presses against her own, and the strong body in front of her doesn’t budge at once when she practically melts in the blazing fervor. 

She tugs them further into the house, detaching herself from Lexa for just a moment so they won’t trip on the stairs. There are more kisses, wandering hands, secretive smiles and giggles shared between the two, and if the edge of the rails digs into her side, Clarke still feels like she is walking on cloud nine. They climb as quietly and quickly as they can, and reach Clarke’s room without waking up anyone else in the house. 

Lexa is backed against the wooden door, fumbling for the door nob. “Clarke…” She mews in between her labored breaths. Clarke takes the opportunity to trace her tongue along the elegant column of Lexa’s neck, catching the faintest taste of salt on the silky skin. “I thought… I thought you’d want to talk about what happened tonight,” Lexa whispers, “that’s why I… why I came over. Ow…” she swallows down a whimper at the punitive nip Clarke gives her. 

“How about we don’t talk at all.” Satisfied at the artwork she painted on the woman’s throat, Clarke twists the door nob and pushes themselves inside. 

Soon, she is falling into the mattress, her entire world spinning upside down and spiraling out of her control. And for the first time in a long time, she is fine with that. Lexa makes fast work unfastening the belt of her kimono, and soon, feathery kisses are dusted over every inch of newly revealed skin. Clarke has to purse her lips to hold back her moans as she watches the mop of brown hair travel to her nether region. She totally pegged Lexa to be a boob girl, but this is equally good, more cut to the chase, so she brings her own hands up to play at her bra-clad breasts. 

However, what Lexa does next is anything but cut to the chase. She takes her time brushing light kisses into the fleshy thighs, her nimble fingers stroking the edge of those lacy panties, and her nose dragging across the smooth plane of Clarke’s belly. 

“Don’t tease…” Her voice sounds sickeningly sweet, on the verge of begging even. Sparkling green eyes smiles up at her reassuringly. Lexa darts out her tongue, ready to plunge in and take a long, hard, delicious, lick— 

“Mom, mommy!!!” Hurried padding rushes down from the hallway, first far away and faint, but becoming louder and louder soon accompanied by the noise of small fist pounding at her door. “Mommy!” 

Clarke shoots up from the bed, but she has to shield her eyes from the light that pierces through the crack between her curtains. For a second she can’t fathom what is happening. She looks down to her body, fully clothed in wrinkled shirt she wore last night, the hand that isn’t shading her eyes is firmly cupping at her breast, and… to the sinking, dreading, disappointment in her stomach, no Lexa. 

“Mom, wake up! It’s 9 already! And grandma made banana pancakes!” Aden knocks three more times before running down the hallway and down the stairs. 

She squeezes her eyes shut and falls back into the mattress with a heavy sigh. She rolls over to bury her red, sweaty face into her pillow, and doesn’t miss the uncomfortable feeling of her drenched panties clinging to her center. On the one hand, she is embarrassed to have had a wet dream of the woman she’s only had one date with, and on top of it all, almost getting walked in on by her son; on the other hand, she can’t help but wonder what the dream would take her had it not been interrupted. 

She wonders if Lexa is an attentive lover, she wonders if her skin tastes like sea salt truffle, she wonders what Lexa sounds like in bed… 

_Ugh, Clarke, what in the hell is wrong with you, get your mind out of the gutter!_ She shakes herself out of the dirty fantasy, and hops into the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. Once her ruined panties are dumped into the hamper, her hair pulled into a ponytail, and her face clear of all the flushness, she wanders downstairs to join her mother and son at breakfast. 

Abby certainly does not miss the way Clarke avoids looking her in the eyes. “Had a good night?” She asks innocently. 

“Mom!” Clarke hisses under her tone, tilting her head slightly towards the little boy happily chewing a piece of pancake too big for his little mouth, “you can’t just suggest these things in front of…” 

Abby rolls her eyes almost back into her skull, “I’m not suggesting anything. I know nothing happened, Lexa showed up at 7 in the morning.” 

“Lexa’s here?” She can’t possibly be more relieved. Despite her embarrassment, she knows that she needs to talk to the woman. 

Aden is finally available after swallowing his giant bite of pancake, “no, Lexa drove to the warehouse to get dog food and some new tools. She came by to tell you but you were sleeping in.” 

At that, Clarke hides her face into her coffee mug as suspicious red clouds rise up to her cheeks again. She turns to her mother and changes the topic, “are you going to the hospital today, mom?” 

“Not until the PM shift. I swapped with Jackson, he’s taking his girlfriend on a date for their anniversary. Speaking of dates…” Abby makes one last attempt to hint at the previous night. 

“Mom, no…” Clarke groans, pulling herself up to the kitchen sink and starting to run the dishes under water. Just as she squeezes a generous amount of detergent into the sponge, she hears the truck pulling into the driveway, and out comes no other than the woman of her dreams—literally, she is still quite shaken from her lustful subconsciousness that featured wild brown mane in between her legs. To be completely honest to herself, it wasn’t the first time Lexa starred in her dream that took a turn for the NC-17 content warning, but up till this point, they have been somewhat tame and brief, and she always made sure to repress any memories of them the next morning. Today, however, she just wants to relive and ruminate about it again and again. 

Aden finishes his breakfast too, and walks up to deliver his plate, peering at his mother with a sly smirk, “grandma says it’s my turn to do the dishes, but since the work station is already occupied… I’m gonna go watch some TV!” Before Clarke can react, he is running to the living room and face planting onto the couch. 

Shaking her head with an indulgent smile, Clarke calls after him, “finish your math homework first, and you’re doing dishes tonight!”, which earns a groan from the little boy. Breathing out a small sigh, she soon finds out that it isn’t a bad chore schedule mix-up at all. The plain old view of her barn from the kitchen window suddenly becomes interesting today with a welcome addition of Lexa’s presence. Clarke brushes her hair away from her eyes, and leans against the counter as she starts to slowly and mindlessly scrub at the pots and pans. 

 

Lexa has no idea she is being watched, mainly because her mind is all muffed by sleep deprivation. She woke up at the crack of dawn—sleep did not come easily either. She spent hours staring at the ceiling, reliving every word, every smile, every handholding, and every kiss they shared. The churning, stingy anger in her stomach gradually fainted away. She knows it isn’t her fault, nor Clarke’s, hell, not even the fat cop’s, that the night ended the way it did. It was time’s fault. Whatever happened or didn’t happen is not going to dishearten her, only makes her surer of her feelings toward Clarke Griffin. It might not be meant to happen, right there right then, but it doesn’t mean that there would never be a here and now. 

Hope, like the morning sun, rises cautiously but warmly in her chest as she picks up her pace to the farm. 

Lexa is early again. The dogs never minded, they are always enthusiastic to see the human who feeds them and walks them. Judging by the amount of dog food and supplies left in the storage, she most likely would have to make a trip to the dealer today. So she gets a hurry start on the daily routines of feeding and cleaning. 

Bargaining with the warehouse owner for dog food and several tools isn’t the best way to spend her morning, though she is able to get a decent deal on a couple of wood pieces she needs for her own little shack. But as she drives back to the farm, fatigue starts to catch up with her, and once again she wonders if life in the civilian world has made her soft. 

Though it is just 10 in the morning, the blaring sun is enough to cast a burning sensation on her skin. It is weirdly familiar and comforting. She pulls the truck as close to the barn as she can manage, but she still is reluctant to accept the fact that only manual labor will work in the small distance between the storage shelves and the cargo. 

Lexa Woods isn’t one to back down from a challenge just because of a slight headache. She ties her hair into a tight ponytail and meets the hard work head-on.

 

Clarke would have chastised herself for starring at the marine officer’s ass for too long hadn’t she already been too consumed by the sight. It is a nice pair of cargo pants Lexa is wearing. The rolled-up sleeves also leave little to imagination, Lexa’s lean and firm muscles ripple smoothly with her movements, the tattoo that wraps around her bicep bunches and stills too. Throwing the heavy bags down in a pile on the ground, then dragging them into the storage, Lexa starts panting a little. A thin film of sweat coats her neck and rolls down her back. She bends over to rest her hands on her knees, and lifts the corner of her shirt to wipe away the drip of sweat that threatens to roll into her eyes. 

A small gasp catches in the back of Clarke’s throat, her greedy eyes glued to the newly exposed skin on the woman’s stomach. It is as if Lexa is doing it all on purpose, hell, she has all the bragging rights. Every bulging of her biceps, every flick of her hair, every heave of her chest, every drop of sweat on her body… Clarke for a moment thinks her fantasy has come true. With each inhale heavier than the last one, she practically moans her appreciation. A strand of hair falls from behind her ear, so she brings up a hand to tuck it back, not even noticing the detergent suds on her wet fingers. It is nothing comparing to the wetness that boiled its way down to her core. 

Abby is in the adjacent dining room, working on some of her case studies. She casually glances at her daughter, and sees that she has been lingering at the sink for an unusually long time. It piques her curiosity. She cranes her neck to look outside the window, and then back to Clarke, who is staring attentively in a conspicuous trance. Abby bites down a smirk, and puts on a straight face, “well, that’s as clean as it’d ever be…” 

Pink bubbles bursting all over the place, Clarke is snapped out of her daydream. She drops the pot. It slides into the water, making a loud clanking noise and splashing water all over the her clothes. “Ughhhhh…!” Clarke groans in annoyance, storming to the laundry room with a bright flush on her cheeks. 

After nearly two hours of organizing the storage, Lexa finally finishes all her morning work. She didn’t bring a lunch, figured that she has some time to slip away in between morning and afternoon work to go back to her shack, grab a meal and bring Hades out to the farm for a little playtime. She miscalculated. Right now, she just wants to crash and nap in the trunk. So that is exactly what she does, climbing onto the truck and slumping against the rear windshield, unperturbed by the heat. 

Clarke is watchful. She’s been wanting to talk to Lexa all morning, and after all her unabashed leering, Lexa should know how she feels. Maybe it would be better if they talked in the afternoon, she fidgets in the kitchen as she prepares lunch for Aden and Abby. There will be less demanding work and more free time in the afternoon. However, when it is about time that Lexa takes off to go wherever for an hour and half, she doesn’t seem to be going on this day. It doesn’t take her much investigation to see that the woman has dozed off in the trunk. Concern for the woman quickly overtakes her embarrassment and coyness. Clarke grabs a bottle of vitamin water from the fridge and a turkey sandwich that is the main course for lunch, and goes outside. At the first stroke of the stuffy, sticky wind, she blames herself for not checking on Lexa earlier. It is abnormally hot, even for the current season. Awkwardly, she jogs up to the side of the truck. “Lexa?” 

To her relief, green eyes snap open in alertness, and soften at the sight of her face. “… hi, hello Clarke.” 

“Mind if I…?” She gestures at the tailgate. 

Lexa scoots over to one edge to make space for her unexpected companion. “Not at all,” she pats at the small blanket, “I smoothed out all the wrinkles for you.” 

“You shouldn’t have.” Clarke chuckles, and pulls herself up into the trunk with ease. “You sure you’re okay? It’s very hot out today.”

“Just a little tired is all, figured I should take a nap on break.” 

“I uh… brought you these.” She hands the bottle of water and the sandwich to Lexa. 

Lexa takes the items gratefully without much of a fuss. Popping the cap open, she can’t stifle the groan as cold water pours down her throat. Some spills out the corner of her lips as she gulps down the water with zest. Without a second thought, Clarke reaches out to brush the small stream of vitamin water away from her chin. It causes the both of them to pause slightly, Lexa lowering the bottle, and Clarke retrieving her hand. 

Her stomach lurches at how fast her heart is beating. Clarke bites her lower lip and pretends to take great interest in the small hole on the hem of her shirt. 

If she saw the endearing shy little smile at the corner of Clarke’s mouth, Lexa doesn’t comment on it. She takes a generous bite into the sandwich, and feels content just to sit quietly with the blonde woman by her side. 

“You know, you’re welcome inside.” Clarke suddenly breaks the silence. 

“Nah, I’m all sweaty, probably smell gross too.” Lexa wrinkles her nose cutely. 

There is a certain earthy scent to the woman beside her on this particular day. It is a mixture of deodorant, dirt, sweat and musk, with a little bit of something uniquely Lexa. Clarke doesn’t mind it at all. But she still stumbles over her words to find an appropriate response, “I mean… um when you bring like lunch or something… you can use the fridge.” 

Her lips tilt into a lopsided smirk. Lexa puts down her sandwich and peers at Clarke, “okay, I’ll take you up on that offer.” 

They fall into another silence as they both contemplate about whether or not to address the elephant in the room. 

Clarke, after an entire morning of thinking and overthinking, finally takes a stab at the topic. “I’m sorry… about last night.” 

The statement takes her aback slightly. Lexa feels confused and conflicted. “Are you sorry about the kiss?” 

“No!” She is so fast to respond her voice sounds like a little yap. Clarke flushes even more than she thought she can, but continues on, “no… I’m sorry for how I… um, left… last night. I was um… I was embarrassed, and angry, and I didn’t react well. I wasn’t considerate of your feelings, and I’m sorry if I hurt you.” 

Lexa is quiet at that confession. She studies the bright blue eyes that are now staring back at her nervously. She thinks about how Clarke has changed over the past few months, from the initial harsh temperament, and protective, and full of attitude, to soft, and uncertain, and hopeful. “I appreciate it,” she finally says quietly, “and it’s okay.” Her eyes cast down to the space in between themselves, her hand moves on its own accord to lapse over the other woman’s. 

At that, Clarke breathes out the air she didn’t notice she was holding, and scoots closer till their arms are touching, their skin a little sticky in the sweltering weather but neither minds. “Maybe… we can try again, if you’d like?” She plays with Lexa’s long fingers, running her thumb over the small scar on her pinky, she wonders about the story behind it. “Maybe dinner and a movie…” 

“Dinner and a movie sound great.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

They share a smile, a little silly and a little dreamy. Clarke rests her cheek on Lexa’s shoulder, and Lexa drops a light kiss on her forehead. They spend the rest of Lexa’s break discussing nothing in particular, some new movies that came out, and new clients they picked up. 

In the afternoon, Clarke insists that Lexa should take the truck and go home, the weather too hot to work in the open field, and the dogs are also lethargic, panting with pink tongues in the shaded areas of their shelters. They check and make sure the animals have enough water and food for the day. 

When it’s time for Lexa to take off for the day, both are shy and unsure of what to say. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“See you tomorrow.” Clarke nods, and at last second, follows her instinct to print her lips on the woman’s cheek. 

Lexa drives away, a bright smile plastered on her face, and long forgotten is her uncharacteristic fatigue. Clarke goes back inside her house with a hint of salt on her tongue and a spring in her step, she tries her best to ignore the sly looks shared between her mother and her son. 

 

 

July 12 th 2015

They never set a date for the dinner and a movie, but both are well-aware that it was metaphorical anyways. Seeing each other everyday, with unabashed grins and unspoken desires, is more than enough to get them through the nights. It’s a blooming affair, an early stage of dating, a potential relationship, whatever this is, and as how normal people usually behave in this state, they are shy and curious and excitable and eager like a pair of puppies. Eager to please—which is why Lexa is happily spending her only day off working on the engine of Abigail. Hades is right by her side, too, chewing mindlessly on his favorite toy Clarke gifted to him. 

After several abnormally hot days of brewing and stewing, the clouds have absorbed so much water that they can’t hold onto anymore. It starts to downpour like a billion buckets of water are tipped over. Lexa at first doesn’t notice, too engrossed in the boat mechanic manual. Oh how she wishes Raven was there helping with all these intricate parts and complex gears. 

The boat becomes a little rocky and the lake is overflowing. She doesn’t want her socks to get wet—nothing grosses her out more than the weird cold and squishy sensation of wet socks—so she sits and waits to ride it out. Some kind of pop songs are playing on the radio, and she feels pretty content to keep working her way through the book. Some time passes, she doesn’t think it’s been too long, the radio signals start to get interrupted, first it fades in and out, then it completely vanishes into static noise with occasional screeches. She gets up from the floor, and peers outside, the downpour hasn’t relented a bit, and it even starts to hail a little. Soon, tree branches start to give under the continuous onslaught, snapping apart and slamming into the ground. One particularly frail tree is uprooted, and leans into the neighboring utility pole. Lexa watches wide-eyed as the pole goes down with the tree, tugging at all the power lines connected to it and electrical sparks zapping through the sky. Hades whimpers morosely at the unfortunate event. Sirens of firetrucks are coming from all directions. Then the lights in the city start to go out, first near the capitol, then state street, engulfing half of the campus, then the blackout spreads its tentacles to the faraway clusters of houses and establishments. 

She sits in the rocking boat feeling anxious, wondering if the Griffins are doing okay. Luckily, nature seems to calm after the raging hailstorm, and the sky clears a little. She ceases the opportunity to get out of the pier and make a run for the truck, “c’mon Hades, get in get in!”

It takes twice the normal time to get back to the countryside, mainly yielding for firetrucks and ambulances, and occasionally taking detours to avoid getting stuck in the mud. Lexa pulls up at the farm, first to check on the dogs. It looks like the Griffins had transported everyone to the emergency indoor shelters, the kennels are overflowing and will be a pain in the ass to clean up. She then opens the side door for Hades to jump out, and they go up the porch. 

 

Aden is flipping through a board game book at the candlelit table when he hears a knock on the door. He brings a flashlight to see who it is. “Lexa! Hades!” He steps aside to let them in, and reassures the dog who is hesitant about breaking the ‘no dirty paw in the house’ rule. 

“Hey buddy, everything okay? The storm is unbelievable.” 

“Yeah, you both look like you just came back from a swim.” He watches her wring out the water in her hair, and goes to find some towels, one for her, one for Hades. 

Lexa sits at the table, hands over the candles to warm herself up. “What are you reading?” 

Aden shows her the book, “you know, you should read this when I’m done. It can really help you up your game.” 

“Who says I needed help?” Lexa arches one eyebrow teasingly. 

“My undefeated record, duh.” 

“Hmmm, is that so?” Lexa sounds amused. As he turns his attention back to patting Hades dry, she listens for other sounds in the house. To her worry, she can’t hear any. “Where are your mom and grandma?” 

“Grandma is on call at the hospital, mom is in the barn with the dogs, some dogs are scared of the thunderstorm.” 

“Well, it is a pretty scary weather. I was scared. Are you?” She gauges his expression. 

He shrugs, but answers honestly, “not the storm, the power outage though. I’m scared the ice cream is going to melt. But mom said it’s nothing to worry about, the power will come back tomorrow.” 

Lexa smiles, finding his childish logic endearing. “It certainly will. I’m gonna check on the dogs, okay? You stay put with Hades and watch the ice cream.” 

He nods with a rare-found solemness, “I will go check it again in five minutes.” 

 

Clarke is going over some customer records with a flash torch, she got a little bored keeping the dogs calm. They are now quieter as the rolling thunders dimmed down a while ago. She hears the barn being pushed open, and wet footsteps trailing in. “Aden?” 

When there isn’t a response, she turns to investigate, and finds Lexa’s soft smile in the dancing candle lights. Her heart quickens upon the image of this woman—her hair is wet and loose around her shoulders, the rain adding a darker shade to the brown waves. “What are you…” 

“Just wanted to stop by and make sure you are okay.” Lexa stalks a little closer. 

Clarke can’t help the curve creeping up the corner of her lips. “Just wanted to stop by…? How mysterious…” 

Lexa gives in, and tells the other half of the truth, “I also wanted to see you… all day.” With each word, she is stepping towards Clarke, until there is merely an inch between them. It takes all her willpower to not reach out and touch the woman. 

Clarke captures a strand of hair and twirls it in between her fingers, feeling seductive and sultry all of a sudden. “You’re all wet.” She whispers, and pops open the buttons on Lexa’s jacket one by one. Thanks to the water resistant material, the soft shirt underneath feels warm and dry enough. 

Lexa is completely captivated. Her head is tilted slightly to the side as she watches the lithe, pale hands work on the last button. Then they come up to her collar, to help her peel the clothe off. She clears her throat, a futile attempt at hiding her blush and remaining cool. Her fingers sneak up to rest on Clarke’s waist, the glint in her eyes and the shiver in her breathes all but daring the woman to come closer. 

Clarke complies, lets herself get drawn into the enticing warmth. Her hands slide over the strong shoulders, meeting behind Lexa’s neck, and the jacket slacks into a pile on the ground with a wet thump. 

Their noses touch first, nudging and tickling, sharing each other’s breath. Her glance dances in between the deep green eyes with glimmers of candlelights in the center of those darkened, enlarged pupils, and the pink lips that are poutier than ever. She surges forward, to bring their lips together with urgency. 

Heat, flaming like fire but also wet like the air, slowly rises in the sensual movements of warm flesh. Lexa smiles, she is pleasantly shocked when Clarke bites her upper lip slightly, and steals her tongue discreetly into her mouth. She grants her access readily, and learns to use her own flexible muscle to tease and massage its enthusiastic counterpart. Long forgotten are the curious gazes from their canine companions. 

When the slickness strokes at the roof of her mouth, Clarke moans breathily, “Lex…” She pushes Lexa backwards to the side of the table. 

The back of her knees collide into the chair, almost knocking it over. Lexa steadies it messily, and sits down on it, looking up to the woman adoringly. Her desire is on the brisk of exploding when Clarke straddles her without hesitation. The following strings of kisses are deeper and hotter, more aggressive and dominating. She indulges in the pleasure of running her hands over Clarke’s thighs, cupping at the full behind, and squeezing softly. The blonde squirms, her core brushes against the tight abdomen, and Lexa is certain that the spreading moist warmth isn’t completely from her imagination. 

“Oh my god… oh, Lex…” Clarke is practically grinding into the strong body beneath her at this point. Through layers of clothing, the friction is far from enough to tip her over the edge, but the pressure in her lower belly builds. Branding hot lips kiss a trail down the side of her neck, and find their new home just below her collarbone, and she is too far gone to be embarrassed about her uncontrollable arousal. 

“Mom!” Comes the boy’s yelling from the house.

They halt for a fraction of a second, then jump apart. Clarke almost crashes into the dog cage behind her, Lexa is in time to catch her. “What is it, Aden?” She wills her breath to calm, but her voice still comes out broken and quivering. 

“The ice cream is melting! Can I just eat it?” 

It makes the both of them share a small chuckle. Lexa sighs in relief, glad that the candles are dim enough for their discretion. She misses their intimacy immediately, so she proceeds to pull Clarke back into her arms, and nuzzles her nose into the hollow of her throat, making small suckling noises on the soft skin. 

“Just put it into a bowl first!” Clarke hopes her breathless reply does not seem too suspicious to the child’s innocent young mind. 

“Okay!” From the sound of it, Aden is running back to rummage through the cupboards. 

Clarke returns her attention to the woman that is currently nosing at her pulse point. She combs her fingers through the damp brown hair affectionately. “Hey look, the storm is slowing down.” 

Which means that they probably should head back to the house before the little boy grows impatient and inadvertently wanders over. Lexa straightens up reluctantly, and follows the blonde to do one final round on the dogs before leaving the barn. “What time do you think the power will come back?” 

“They won’t get to fixing it until morning, it’s not like we live in the city.” Clarke says as she blows out the candles, and walks to Lexa who is standing at the door, their hands naturally linking together. “The good news is, ice cream has just been added to the menu. Wanna stay for a while?” 

Lexa peers out at the dark sky. Thick layers of loaded, angry clouds are still lingering above their heads. It probably is a good idea to wait out the storm, since the country road is already a muddy mess, and in case the farm needs help overnight. “Ice cream sounds wonderful.” And as those shy blue eyes smile warmly at her, she can’t help but lean in for one last gentle peck on the soft lips that have her absolutely enraptured. 

They run back to the house under the light drizzle, Lexa’s jacket draped over their heads, and find Aden slurping up the melted ice cream with a straw. Clarke teasingly chastises him, and retrieves all three of them bowls to share the whole pint of the sweet treat. 

Fully satisfied with the unexpected dessert, Aden and Lexa huddle over the candlelit coffee table, and start a new game of chess. Hades watches intently on the side of the table with Clarke, as if he has some input in it too. This time, whether it is because of the late time that plays into Lexa’s advantage, or the little boy recovering from his many brain freezes, the game goes on for a lot longer than either of them expected. Lexa feels proud of herself for actually winning the upper hand by the end of it, she pumps her fist in the air and lays her palm up for Hades to tap his paw on. Aden pouts, but soon forgets his defeat after Clarke drops a kiss on the side of his head, and Lexa teaches him how to high-five the dog. 

They end up on the floor petting Hades’ warm coat of fur, and Lexa tells Aden the story of her coming about to rescue him from the rubbles during an oversea mission. “You know, Hades was really brave when I found him on the street. He was just a wee bit little puppy, malnourished, and dehydrated. He had a long barbed wire sticking out of his side, and it was all infected. I didn’t know if he was going to survive or not.” She rubs the dog’s belly, and points out a long scar that is hidden by his luscious pelt. 

Aden looks incredibly sad, he traces the jagged skin with great care. “Then what happened?” 

“I begged the medics to take a look at him. They couldn’t spare the anesthesia, well, they also didn’t know how to dose for a puppy, but they were able to take out the wire. I was actually really scared that he’s gonna lash out, and bite us. So I said to him, ‘I know you’re in pain, but we’re trying to help’, and he didn’t flinch once. I knew, in that moment, that he was going to be alright. So he did, he got stronger and bigger everyday, and he’s been a good boy.” 

“Why did you name him after the god of the underworld?” Clarke strokes the back of the dog’s ear, and earns a purring growl of approval. The gigantic beast rolls over to show her his belly in gratitude. 

Lexa chuckles, “the time he spent in our camp during my mission, he would always steal into the medical tent, and guard those that are badly injured. My team thought he’s like that cat, Oscar, the one in the assistive living home, who can sense death, and bestow mercy or guide the spirits or something. Marines can be pretty superstitious sometimes. So we named him Hades.” 

Hades flips around at the sound of his name. 

“But turned out, a lot of the injured survived. Then we started to think that he was trying to be there for them, because he knew what they were going through.” 

“Like he was their guardian angel.” Aden warps his arms around Hades’ strong neck, and giggles when the pink tongue tickles his face. 

Lexa instinctively looks up to Clarke at his words. Her heart clenches at the memories of finding the woman’s picture on the battle field, of the many times that she could have died, and of the many times she carefully packed the photo in her pocket. Clarke is looking at her as well, gaze tender and affectionate. In that tenderness and affection, she drowns like a shell in the ocean and floats like a feather in the wind. 

The little boy peeks at the suddenly silent women. He doesn’t miss the faint blush that taints his mother’s cheeks, and the enamored spark in Lexa’s eyes. Suddenly, he has an idea. “Lexa,” he calls, “it’s gonna be my birthday soon.” 

“Oh?” Lexa tears her eyes away from Clarke. 

“Yeah, mom and I always go on a picnic week before the party. You should come with us, it’s really fun.” 

Clarke is slightly taken aback by his invitation, and from the surprised green eyes, so is Lexa. In a fleeting moment, Lexa searches for discomfort or objection in her expression. Feeling the urge to soothe and assure, she gives her a small grin and nods. 

Honored and flustered, Lexa takes in a shallow breath to calm the flutter in her chest, lays her hand on top of his shoulder and gives him a light squeeze. “I would love to.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'll try to post another chapter within a week, but I leave for Japan next Wednesday, so maybe I'll post early. 
> 
> Your comments mean everything, even if you're just popping by, say hello!


	8. Did my invitations disappear (why'd I put my heart on every cursive letter)

******Chapter 8 Did my invitations disappear (why'd I put my heart on every cursive letter)**

 

July 15 th 2015

The insistent rain had provided plenty of water to the small creek that the Griffins frequent every year for camping, while the new sun and blue sky helped dry off the river banks and grass. Clarke finds herself sprawled on top the blanket, head resting against Hades’ back, the two of them watching over the pond where Lexa is teaching the little boy how to canoe. 

“Come on, Aden, let’s see what you got!” Lexa hands both of the paddles to Aden, and relaxes back into the spacious boat. 

Aden scrambles for them, stretching out his arms as far as he can to keep a hold on the oars. His sprained wrist from the football game is healed, however slightly weaker from inaction, the left oar slips out of his hand when he attempts a rowing motion. It drops into the green water with a thump, splashing up a small tide. “Ahhh!!!” Both Lexa and he shriek when it showers on them. 

“Watch out, champ!” Lexa rolls over in time to catch the oar before it completely slides out of the oarlock. 

Aden wipes at his face and sputters out the water that he didn’t swallow. “Lexa, the boat is too wide.”

She laughs at his cheeky grin, and ruffles her hand on his full head of golden hair, “don’t sweat it, buddy, you’ll grow into it.” Handing over just one oar this time, she takes charge on the other side. “Okay Aden, now I want you to do this,” she makes a plowing motion with the wooden paddle, treading the broad blade smoothly backward through the water, then lifting it up and rotating it forward to repeat it, “can you do this with me?” 

Aden mimics the first part perfectly, his blade also cuts through the waves without making a splash again, but as it lets up, it doesn’t come completely above the surface of the water, and catches the opposing current that yanks the oar out of his hands again. “Sorry!” He sighs in frustration. 

“No no, it’s no big deal. Pick up the paddle, Aden, let’s try again. Remember this time, pull the blade out of the water before you make another stroke. So it doesn’t cancel out your first stroke.” 

“Like this…?” He pushes down the end of the paddle, and the blade easily comes out of the water, then he rows it forward. 

“Yeah, exactly like that!” Lexa cheers, “now do it again, a little faster so the motions string together nicely.” 

They spin around in circles for a while longer, before the boy picks up the technique and pace. Their boat successfully pulls into the center of the small body of water. 

“Mom! Look at me!” Aden yells to Clarke, who is waving back to them from the shore. 

 

Clarke has been watching, earnestly and intently. She admires the way sleek muscles ripple underneath taunt skin on Lexa’s arms, and she studies the elegant and relaxed posture as Lexa throws back her head, laughing at something Aden said. Her heart is hammering out of her chest, in the most pleasant way possible, at the smallest things that Lexa does. And it isn’t just because Lexa is beautiful, or that she is an excellent kisser, or that she makes her feel oh so pretty, and adored, and wanted. It is all of that, undeniably so, but it is also how Lexa gets along with Aden, how her undivided attention makes him feel heard and cared about, her strong presence puts him at ease, her patient encouragements, her childish playfulness… They are bonding, she can see that plain as day, and she understands fully why Aden can never stop talking about Lexa. 

Whatever she and Lexa might be, she is more so grateful that Aden will always have important memories like this of his childhood, and Lexa being a part of it. 

Lexa in a good mood, by the way she hums some old tunes that Aden’s never heard of. 

_“if you want a lover, I’ll do anything you ask me to; and if you want another kind of love, I’ll wear a mask for you…”_ She whistles in between lyrics, _“here I stand, I’m your man…”_

He giggles at the silly face she makes at a particularly cheesy line, “who sings that?” 

“Only one of the greatest songwriters that graced this world, Leonard Cohen.” 

“I’ve never heard of this person.” Aden shrugs. 

Lexa raises her eyebrows in disbelieve, “oh buddy, you’re about to discover a real gem! My father used to own all of his albums, but I suppose iTunes has to suffice at the moment.”

“My mom has an iPod, let’s go back to her!” Aden announces. So soon the two are rowing back to shore. The boy looks worn out from the sport, he gestures Lexa to turn around so he can climb up her back to avoid getting his pants soaked. Lexa shakes her head in amusement, she picks him up with ease, and throws him over her shoulder like a bag of flour. He giggles and shrills, limbs flailing in the air. When she lets him down, Aden rolls on the blanket and finds a warm spot against Hades, quickly punching in something on Clarke’s music device. “Mom, you should try it, Lexa rows super fast!” 

“No thank you, I’d rather not get my feet wet.” Clarke wiggles her toes, warm and toasty from the sunshine. 

“You don’t have to.” Lexa stands in the shallow water, pants rolled up above her knees. She extends her hand out in Clarke’s direction and winks, “come on, I don’t hear him complaining about the piggyback ride, I even promise I won’t throw you over my shoulder.” 

“Come on, mom, go.” Aden pushes her on the back. He knows all too well what is going on between his mother and Lexa, and he wants to let them know that he approves. 

“Alright, alright. You two are totally teaming up on me.” Clarke stands up, smoothes out her skirt, and walks cautiously toward the woman. “You better not drop me.” 

Lexa laughs softly, “I won’t. Now warp your arm behind my neck.” 

Clarke does as told, she drapes her arm around the muscular shoulders. Lexa’s body feels warm, solid and strong under her palm. She yelps lightly when her world turns horizontal in an instant, getting literally swept off her feet. There are so many scents, of grass and leaves, of flowers and sweet sap, of nature and sunlight, blended together in a colorful blast that invades all her senses, and amongst it all, of Lexa. She presses her cheek against Lexa’s collarbone, and noses at her pulse point, feeling its suddenly uneven flutter, and watching the skin flushes from the hollow of her throat all the way up to the base of her ears. “You smell good…” 

“… thanks…?” Lexa clears her throat shyly, but still savors the few strides that she takes in the knee high water until they reach the boat. Once Clarke is comfortably settled in, she hops swiftly onto the other side, not making a single splash. Lexa catches the appreciative glimpses casted her way, and grins silently to roll up her sleeves and tie her shirt above her naval. 

Clarke naturally gravitates to the inviting body next to her, kicking her feet on the side of the boat, leaning into Lexa, and resting a hand on the woman’s exposed leg, her thumb tracing mindless patterns across the scars on a knee. She feels pleased when she hears the hammering heartbeat that mirrors her own. 

When they arrive at the center of the lake, Clarke dares to chance a glance at Aden, who has her headphones in, and is busy collecting fuzzy dandelions and four leaved clovers under Hades’ watchful eyes. A little giddy and a little bold, she steals a kiss on the corner of Lexa’s mouth. What she doesn’t anticipate from the usually cool and distant marine officer, is Lexa putting away the oars to let the boat float freely, and bringing a strong arm around her waist, pulling her impossibly flush, and pressing those wonderfully plump and full lips to hers with a tender fervor. In the kiss, there is the taste of grass and leaves, of flowers and sweet tree sap, of sunshine and nature, and of something uniquely Lexa. 

When it ends after a few more seconds that they both indulge in, Lexa draws away slightly, but keeps her hand flat against Clarke’s back. She is amazed, by the lingering softness on her mouth and the tingling heat on her cheeks, the warm buzz in her belly and the low hum in her chest. Then she remembers where they are and who they are with, so she turns around to look into Aden’s direction. “Was that… was that okay?” 

Clarke nods, “yeah… I’m pretty sure he knows.” 

“He’s very observant.” Lexa says, and hesitates before she continues, “he made me an invitation card to his birthday party, too.” 

“That’s really cute.” 

“Would it be okay if I showed up, though?” 

This makes her pull away from her position that is half on top of Lexa. Clarke blinks at her own reflections in the worried green eyes. She slowly understands where Lexa is coming from. 

Finn. 

And the other parents that will be at the party. But mostly Finn. 

She has been so absorbed in this day-to-day life with Lexa and Aden, hidden away in the secluded farm and this little bubble of their own. She’s forgotten everything that Finn is and stands for. 

There will be complications in her life, guaranteed, by divulging this relationship she has with a woman in a small place like Arkadia, but Aden loves Lexa, and she really, _really_ likes Lexa, and Lexa deserves so much more. 

She muses, her eyes not leaving Lexa’s. “Yes. Aden wants you there, it’s his party.” Then she rests her hand on Lexa’s forearm, running her thumb over the ridge of a bulging vein—she is still constantly in awe of the strength and power within this woman’s admirable physique—and scoots back into Lexa’s comforting presence, “I want you there, too. You make me feel safe.” She watches the other woman intently, and sees the many emotions that flicker underneath the silent surface of the green waters, until Lexa averts her gaze, and she worries if she’s said something wrong. Her worries are chased away momentarily when Lexa gives her a smile that is best described as cautious and reverent. 

“Okay. I will be there.” Lexa says dutifully. 

As they stare at each other, in a strange, but not uncomfortable silence, Aden runs out of dandelions to blow into the wind. He rolls up from the ground, and runs to the log bridge that crosses the narrowest part of the pond. Hades is quick to follow. “Mom, Lexa.”

“Yes honey?” 

“I need to go home and finish my invitation cards. Grandma is sending them out tomorrow.” 

Lexa lets go of Clarke momentarily, “just a minute, we’re coming back.” 

“It’s okay Lexa, Hades can walk me home.” Aden pats the dog on his head, Hades lets out a pleasant snore. 

“Aden.” Lexa calls his name, and gives him a look, much to Clarke’s confusion. 

The boy casts his eyes to his feet, “oh… okay.” Then he runs back on the log bridge, shouting, “race you back to the truck!” 

“Hey, not fair, you’re cheating!” Lexa laughs, and turns the boat around. 

Clarke can’t help her curiosity, “what was that about? Is he alright?” 

“Aden wanted to have a conversation with me, but it’s kind of a serious topic so he’s been stalling. I’m afraid I can’t really tell you what, because I’ve sworn secrecy, but I promise he’s okay.” 

Clarke raises her eyebrow, a little concerned but just a little amused all the same, “you two are keeping secrets from me now?” 

“It’s his decision, not mine.” Lexa shrugs after pulling the boat to the shallow, sandy area. She jumps off, and offers her hand to the woman still perched on the bench of the canoe, eyeing her suspiciously. Sighing, she strides back, and scoops Clarke up into her arms, “come one, trust me?” 

“I do.” Clarke murmurs, and wraps her arm around the strong shoulders, without prompting this time. 

 

Lexa spends the rest of the day holed up in Aden’s bedroom. Sharing the set of headphones playing the soulful tunes while they talk, and draw, and play chess, and rehearse poker tricks that he recently perfected and intends to showcase at his party. Aden is slightly behind in making his handmade invitation cards, so she takes up on the responsibility of writing the address and time on each one. He is amazed at the cursive letters that spill out effortlessly under her fingertips. “Wow, Lexa, your handwriting looks really pretty.” 

“Thanks, it’s good to know all those college Friday nights I spent perfecting my style alone in my room paid off.” Lexa teases, but is reminded by the lack of a reaction that the boy probably didn’t get the joke. “My father used to tell me that writing is reflective of the person. It shows if someone has dedication, discipline, and perseverance.” Then she proceeds to explain what those words mean. 

“I want to be all of that.” Aden scrunches up his nose, “but I can’t help it that my handwriting is ugly.” 

Lexa smiles reassuringly, “you’re still young, and you’ll have plenty of time to practice. It took me twenty years to be good.” 

“It takes twenty years?” He is wailing by now, his mind cannot even comprehend that amount of time. 

“I’m sure it will take you much less, if you’re willing to put in the work.” Lexa passes the pen in his hand, “now is a great time.” 

They have arrived at the small pile of cards that Aden had set aside. 

“You want to talk about it, Aden?” 

The boy nods, his shoulders drooping a little. 

Lexa stops whatever she was writing to give him all her attention. 

 

Clarke loiters around the doorway to Aden’s bedroom, and peeks in at the two that are whispering amongst themselves. She vaguely makes out the words such as “friendship”, “invitation”, “trouble” and “take care of them”, but without the context, she doesn’t know what is really being discussed. As their conversation seems to draw to its end, she informs them, “dinner’s ready, everyone.” and feels less anxious to see Aden’s big bright smile and energetic shout that he is indeed very hungry. 

“You good?” Lexa puts her hand on the boy’s shoulder to still him before he runs off. Her voice is gentle, but carries a great deal of authority. 

Aden looks her in the eye with conviction, and puts out his fist for her to bump. “I promise.” Then he is off bounding down the staircases like he had springs on his feet, rushing to dinner table where Abby is already seated. 

Clarke watches her son go with an indulgent smile, shaking her head at his loudness and shenanigans. She feels Lexa’s body brush against hers as she exits the door. Their hands naturally, maybe too naturally, come together in a tangle. These small habits, stole kisses and moments ofphysical closeness, developed surprisingly fast in the several days they have started seeing more of each other. For she doesn’t have a lot of off times in between working and helping Abby and taking care of Aden, Clarke has yet to fulfill the date promise. A lot of opportunities for them to be together, Aden tagged along too. Lexa seems perfectly content, though, understandingly and simply cherishes the short seconds of intimate exchange. She leaves after dinner, recalling that Anya is scheduled to call about arranging their traveling plans to Wisconsin in time for Bellamy and Echo’s wedding. 

 

Aden works on finishing up all his cards by putting on a toy stamp on each. Abby supervises closely, ever vigilant since the incident when he ate an entire stick of glue and had tummy ache for three days. He laughs when she teases him about it, “grandma, no! I was four years old. I’m a big boy now,” and proceeds to pester her until she promises that she will never tell the story to Lexa. 

Abby flips through the deck of invitation cards on the table, she muses over several particular names. “Aden honey,” she tries her best to not frown, but her concern is evident on the wrinkles in between her raised eyebrows, “didn’t you tell me that they were not very nice to you? Are you sure you want to invite them to your party?” 

“No, I wasn’t.” He admits. 

“Would you still want me to sent them out?” 

Aden shrugs, “yeah, I should give them another chance. Lexa said that kids bully other kids because they feel unsecure about themselves.”

“Insecure.” Abby corrects softly. 

“In-secure.” He continues, “because I’m really smart and funny, and I can play the violin, and do magic tricks. They’re just jealous, it’s not like they’re evil or something.” 

“Lexa told you that?”

“Yeah, when she was helping me with the cards. Look it, isn’t her handwriting pretty?” He gets excited to show his grandmother the amazing craft work they’ve accomplished together. 

Abby follows where his little finger is pointing at, and nods in agreement that Lexa’s penmanship is indeed very aesthetically pleasing. But she is curious as of what the conversation was about, so she subtly asks, “what else did Lexa say?” 

“She said that if I invite them, it means that I can forgive them for being mean, and take the first step to work on being friends again. She also said it’s okay to not forgive them, too, because forgiveness takes a lot of time and a lot of courage. I shouldn’t feel like I have to,” he says, “but I should never be cruel to other people, not even the bullies, it’s not right to hurt other people’s feelings.” 

“Lexa is right.” Abby comments, incredibly proud of him. 

“I think I’m ready to forgive them.” He puffs out his chest and smiles triumphantly, “don’t worry, grandma, I’ll only be friends with them if they’re nice to me. If they try to bully me again, Lexa will chase them out like Hades chases out raccoons from our yard.” 

She is chuckling now, remembering with vivid details of the incident when a family of four greedy little beasts invaded the barn and broke into the dog foods. Lexa somehow took a liking to the creatures, fed them a meal of stale popcorns, and swept them out carefully with a soft broom. But Hades bristled almost instantly when he saw them, growling and barking and spitting at the spotted animals. So the raccoons started to scurry in all directions, so the dogs forgot about whatever they were doing to chase the raccoons, until the entire kennel rose into chaos and a whirlwind of mud and fur and water and dog food and some pigeon feather out of nowhere took over the farm. By the end of it, Lexa had to resort to raccoon repellants, which she was quite sad about. “Okay, I believe you. I’m sure they’ll have to be nice after you tell that story.” 

“I bet!” He stands up and gives her a kiss on the cheek, “thanks grandma! Also… please don’t tell mom…? I can stand up for myself, but she always worries too much.” 

“I won’t, promise.” _But I hope she can learn a thing or two about standing up for herself._ Abby muses, watching him go back up to his bedroom. She pushes herself up from the dinner table, and wanders to the porch to catch some night breeze. Turning on the porch light, she startles at the shadowy figure sitting in the dark corner, “oh my gosh, Clarke! You almost gave me a heart attack.” 

“Sorry, mom.” The young Griffin apologizes, her voice sounding coarse and muffled. 

There is a moment of silence, interrupted by small sniffles. Abby sits down on her chair and observes the profile of her daughter under the starry night sky. “So you heard us?” 

Clarke only nods. Her heart is trembling with tenderness all over. How clueless has she been, and helpless, when her poor baby is trying to be so brave for her, so considerate and so protective of her. And Lexa, that intelligent, humble, thoughtful woman who is too wise for her age, who doesn’t even know how much she does, how good she is. _Oh god,_ she thinks to herself, _what have I gotten myself into?_

“What is it, honey?” 

Her mother’s voice is as warm as her hand that’s placed on the top of her shoulder. “You’re right.” 

“About?”

“Lexa.” 

“Oh.” The curve of Abby’s mouth looks more of a smirk than a smile. It makes Clarke roll her eyes. 

“You’re right. Only thing is it’s not gonna work. Nobody is _this_ good. They never are.” Clarke tries to talk herself out of this slippery slope that she is sliding down, a slippery slope that will unavoidably end in a sticky pit of pink bubbles and sweetness and a little four-lettered word. “Eventually… eventually it will end, things will get awkward, Lexa will have to quit the job, Aden will be heartbroken, and it’ll be all my fault—”

“He’ll grow up hating you, he’ll move far away and never call, I’ll be dead and you’ll be all alone, _forever_!” Abby cuts her off, taunting her in a dramatic and sarcastic high pitched voice. 

Clarke glares at her mother for the theatrics and Abby glares right back. She finally couldn’t contain the amusement from spreading across her face.

_Maybe…_

Maybe it’s not so bad to have someone like Lexa in her life after all.

 

 

July 20 th 2015 

The farm is absolutely _packed_ with people celebrating Aden’s 7 th birthday, family friends, neighbors, classmates, Clarke’s squad, Abby’s colleagues, and a Finn in his solitude have turned up for the little boy that they all adore and care about. It’s an excuse for kids to eat as much junk food as they want for a day, and the adults to gossip sitting on folding chairs with a glass of wine in hand. 

Right now, the birthday boy has invited some children to his table. In the group of kids, there is a boy who was one of the culprits that teased Aden at school. The rest of the bullies didn’t show up, most likely because the invitation cards were intercepted by parents with some nasty opinions about Clarke. 

Aden was just the slightest disappointed at the other two kids’ absence. To which, Lexa patted him on the back, “it’s their loss, Aden, you’ve done everything you could. Now why don’t you go ahead and do the poker trick for those that _did_ show up?” 

“Yeah, I will do that!” He was receptive, and ran back to gather the children to his makeshift magic show stage. 

“Tell me when to stop!” He flips through the cards with deft fingers, while the other children stare in awe. 

A little girl participates with enthusiasm, “stop!” and the children gasp when he stops at the exact card that the girl had picked out earlier. 

After the brief interaction with Aden, Lexa has blended into the crowds. She doesn’t really know many people, besides Clarke’s friends Zoe and Harper. The couple is now talking to two men who are standing hand in hand, so she simply leans against the porch column and observes the partygoers. It is kind of hilarious, that adults are divided into clear social circles, and everyone sticks to their own, as if they will spontaneously combust with one step out of their comfort zone. Clarke and Abby seem to be the only ones that circulate among the groups, but she’s lost sight of the hostesses momentarily. 

“Hey.” 

A soft voice behind her catches her off-guard. Lexa whips her head back, and sees Clarke’s bashful smile. “Hey, how are you?”

“The kids are little monsters, they completely trashed my yard.” She ducks behind Lexa’s back when she sees some of the children’s parents walk close to the house, “ugh, a bunch of hypocrites, everyone of them. I can’t wait till this is over.” To demonstrate her impatience, she runs a hand down the length of Lexa’s back and rests just slightly above the swell of her gorgeous rear, “till it’s just us.” 

Lexa catches the bold hand before it can travel further. She turns them around, so Clarke is backed against the column, _two can play the game_ , “your guests will be so scandalized if they knew what we do when it’s just us,” she whispers into the blonde’s ear, her lips hovering just half an inch away from the fleshy lobe. Before Clarke could respond in kind, she has taken a step back so there is an innocent amount of space between themselves. She peeks at the kids from behind the pillar, “they finished the lollipops, looks like it’s time to cut the cake.” 

Clarke sighs in relief, “good, then I can wrap this up. Hold down the fort for me.” She pushes away from the column, not without tracing her fingers along the woman’s strong arm, and teasingly pulls on Lexa’s hand before letting go. “See you at the kid’s table.” 

Lexa chuckles, and braces herself for the incessant shouting and shrieking as she walks toward the children with newly unoccupied mouths. 

Finn has been watching them closely, and his eyes squint in disgust, nostrils flaring and jaw squaring. The empty beer can crinkles under the force of his fist when he sees how closely Clarke has allowed Lexa to get, it then soon meets the ground with a clank when the two women share a smile before parting. He makes a beeline for the kitchen as Clarke retrieves into the house. 

The windpipes make a series of unpleasant notes when the door slams close. Clarke jumps at the sound. 

Finn has come in, with him, an air of rage mixed with sweat and alcohol. “What the hell is she doing here?”

“Aden invited her.” Clarke says, forcing her voice to not quiver in front of him, “it’s his party.” 

He struck his fist on the counter, and presses from behind her. “You think I don’t know what’s going on here? Huh? You take me a fool!?” 

“Finn—” She tries to nudge him away with her shoulder, but he is unperturbed by her exertion. The bad smell on his breath is now hot in her face, and she feels the back of her neck tingle in fear. 

He cuts her off, “I don’t think I like you seeing her, Clarke, and I don’t think I like you being a fucking dyke.” 

“Well, you don’t have a say in it.” Clarke flinches when he suddenly cocks his head, shaggy hair falling in his dark, manic eyes. She instinctively feels for the knife she’s prepared for cutting the cake.

“I certainly have a say in who my son sees, eh? And if I were to say that his mom’s unhealthy relationship with some crazy dyke drifter has created an unstable environment for my boy,” he picks up the knife, and tosses it across the kitchen counter, “I don’t think there’s a judge that disagrees with me, certainly not in _this_ town.” 

“Get. Out.” Her whole body trembles, and tears start to stream down her cheeks. The thought of losing her son to Finn is absolutely unbearable. She wants to strike him across the face, no, she wants to pick up the knife and jab it through his stupid face. Yet, her body in that moment, decides to lock up completely. 

Smug at the impact of his words, Finn sniffs roughly at the smell of shampoo in her hair, and finally swaggers away in slowly paced steps, vanishing from the party. 

 

Lexa thinks she saw Finn coming out from the house a few moments ago. His presence elicited a sinking feeling in her stomach. After a while, Clarke brings out the cake, and avoids her eyes when everyone sings Happy Birthday to Aden. 

People finally start to file out of the Griffin estate, children satisfied with a day of sweets and treats, and adults full with new scandalous information on their friends and neighbors. Lexa finds her alone in the garden, trying to fix a few plants of crane flowers that suffered the torment of curious kids. 

“What’s going on?” She asks, albeit already guessed exactly what kind of venomous words Finn had fed his ex-wife. 

Clarke swallows with difficulty. She tells her the truth, because there is no point in lying. She is scared, horrified, flabbergasted, she is trembling from head to toe. “He wants you out of my life.” Her hands come up to cover her face, “I can’t risk losing Aden.” 

“So that’s your decision.” _A decision you made without me, for us._ She thinks, her fists clenched tight at her side, but her voice devoid of any fringe of anger or mournfulness, of any emotions. 

The effect is immediate. Clarke’s pale cheeks lose their last trace of their usual healthy glow. 

Lexa sighs, and pushes herself up from the edge of the garden wall. She dusts her pants, getting ready to leave Clarke, both literally and figuratively, “I didn’t come here to make things harder.” As she goes, a hand, cold and clammy, grabs onto her wrist with an obvious sense of urgency and desperation. She turns back briefly. 

Watery blue eyes are wide with unshed tears, until one rolls down silently, leaving no streak or smear on the make-up free face. “You don’t know what I’m dealing with,” she says, “please Lexa”. But of what she is pleading, she can’t quite comprehend herself. She is the one who let go, yet she can’t help but holds on. The outside world through her wide, watery, blue eyes, becomes a blur of color that melts to shades of grey. The weight locks in her chest and throat. Clarke’s chapped lips tremble. 

Lexa thinks Clarke is breathtakingly beautiful, even like this. Nails digging into her palms, she presses down the burning need to wrap her arms around the woman’s body. Difficult as it is, she can’t do this to herself, and she doesn’t want to do this to Clarke. “I _do_ know that you deserve better than this.” So with that, she flees the Griffin’s property. 

 

As if sensing the clingy distress in the smoldering summer air, all creatures big or small have deserted the trees and bushes lining the country road. The partygoers steadily dissipate into the sparsely constructed neighborhood just as fast as they devoured the food and drinks. The two boys at the party, Monty and Nathan, Lexa thinks they are called, collectively give her a empathetic smile at last, and it is just her. Her, her own breathing, and the leaves crunching under her boots. 

It goes on for a long while before she notices how her jaw is hurting, by the sheer force of how hard she is clenching her teeth, and her hands are turning sore, knuckles white in tight fists. But Lexa refuses to wallow in anger and self-pity. 

She traveled here looking for Clarke to say thank you, to come up with some kind of grand speech about how fate had brought her back from many possible deaths and had brought her to Clarke. However, along the way, that kind of gratitude and awe at a mysterious higher power have evolved into something else, something deeper, something that cuts and hurts like bullets that had pierced through her skin and flesh. Only this time, a surgery and some bandages can’t fix the hole in her heart. 

Sound of tires against gravel snaps her out of the dull ache she has indulged to take over her thoughts. An all too familiar silver Toyota catches up with her, and behind the wheels, sits a smug Finn. “Hey, you,” he whistles, “want a ride?” 

“What do you want?” 

“What do I want?” Finn taps his chin, “what do I want? Hmm, Sarge, I want to give you a job, alright? You gotta be tired cleaning up dog shit by now, aren’t you?” He doesn’t let her answer the question, but chuckles vilely and continues, “I know many people in this town, I can make a couple of calls, and get you something worthy of a veteran, what do you say?” 

Lexa just stares at him with a perfectly measured blank expression. She is tired of him, bored, even. When he grins at her maliciously, she doesn’t reciprocate with anything but walks around his car to take a narrower path. 

“Hey!” Finn is insistent, bordering compulsive, “you better listen to me, Woods, you don’t know who you’re dealing with!” 

“Oh I know exactly what I’m dealing with.” Lexa deadpans, “I’ve known people like you all my life, thinking a badge and a family name make you something when you’re nothing.” 

“You better watch your mouth.” He waves his fists in the air and spits. A rash-like redness ascends from the bounding veins on his neck to his temples. 

“I’m done talking to you.” 

 

June 25 th 2015

It has been days. Days of silence, days of detachment, days of awkward interactions and cold shoulders. Lexa doesn’t speak unless she’s spoken to, and when she does, the content is robotically work-related. 

Lexa is avoiding her. Clarke thinks she deserves it. Loneliness, self-pity, and guilt, is what she deserves, what she always has. Yet longing, desire, and unrequited feelings, is what she cannot control. It aches, behind the hollow of her chest, in the deepest corner of her heart, like heated knife that carves through flesh and bone, when the emotionless green eyes rest upon her face, devoid of the subtle smile and adoration that Lexa has reserved for only her. And it burns, on her flustered, embarrassed face, when Aden stares curiously between the two of them, questioning the different energy but not quite able to pinpoint what has gone wrong. 

Abby picks up on the trail as soon as she gets back from work and finds her daughter sulking in the living room, ironing clothes. The steam almost burns through the fabric, and her red, fumbling fingers create more wrinkles than the ones she smoothed out. Clarke’s neck is stiff, with all the stubborn in her body, she focuses her eyes solely on the chore under her nose, when just outside the window, Lexa says goodbye to Aden after her day of work. Abby catches Lexa steal a short-lived glance before forcing herself to leave, jaw clenched and brows knitted, the profile of her face so harsh it cuts. 

“So are you planning to let him bully you all your life?” Abby breaks the rhythmic noise of iron raking the clothes. She supposes that her tone could have been softer, but she is equally unhappy at this conclusion Clarke has reached with Lexa.

“Excuse me?” Clarke sounds annoyed. 

Abby is just as head-strong, if not more so, as her daughter. She puts down her case study, and sets her face stern, “you heard me.” When Clarke remains wordless, shoulders heaving slightly with the amount of force she is using to ignore her mother, Abby continues, “you now, sacrificing everything in life for a child is not selfless. It’s, well, it’s ridiculous.” 

“I am. Doing. The. Best. That I can!” Clarke snaps, accentuating every word. The iron pounds on the board in a loud metallic clank. Blue eyes are red with angry tears. 

Abby’s hazel colored eyes are clam, but unyielding, “really?” 

 

Aden sits on the swing outside the porch and watches as Lexa walks into the sunset. She always leaves in a haste now, making various excuses to not stay for dinner or at least a cup of tea. “Where are you going?” He had asked. 

“The pier on the west side of the lake.” She answered, “I want to finish a project I’ve started there.”

She didn’t disclose what kind of project, but in the weak smile that doesn’t quite reach her hopelessly sad eyes, he thinks it has something to do with his mother. He would have been right. Lexa spends her nights on Abigail, slowly putting together a new engine for the withered boat. She’s contemplated leaving the farm as soon as she finishes fixing the engine, for the pain it inflicts that runs deeper than sore muscles and a bad knee. But she can’t find it in herself to completely abandon the relationship she’s built with the young boy, the serenity and peacefulness of country life, and even if she just searches in her heart for a second, the light of hope that shimmers like the moon, luminous and luring, crystal and constant, weaves through dark clouds and cold nights, beautifully so. 

Beautiful is the crescent that hangs like a lopsided smile on the black canvass, Clarke is transfixed by the view, her pinky finger inches outward on the bench, craving for the strong hand that usually brushes and traps it. Aden’s padding appears behind her. He joins her despite it’s half an hour past his bedtime. He rubs his eyes groggily. “Mom, can I ask you something?” 

She doesn’t speak, only scoots closer and holds him. 

“Are you mad at Lexa?” He asks. 

Letting out a long sigh, she shakes her head, “no, baby, I’m not mad at Lexa.” 

“Is she mad at you?” 

_Yeah, probably_ , she thinks. Her hand comes up to caress his rich blonde hair. “It’s something between adults, honey, you wouldn't understand.” 

“Is it because of me?” He presses, his voice now filled with anxiety and regret. He knows his mother has a complicated relationship with his father, but he never wanted that to be the reason that his mother couldn’t be happy. 

Clarke widens her eyes at the inquiry. “No! Of course it’s not because of you, Aden. It’s just very difficult, for Lexa and I to be… very close friends—”

“You mean a couple, right?” 

She almost laughs, “okay, you’re right, for us to be together. At times, you have to choose, whether you want to be with someone, or you want your life to go on as it is. I love how my life is, right now, with you.” 

“Can’t you choose us both, though? There’s got to be another way.” He says with a seriousness that surpasses his young age. “Mom, please, promise you’ll fix it?” He pulls at her arm, big doe eyes watching her expectantly, “if it’s something you did wrong, just apologize, Lexa will forgive you, I’m sure she will.” 

Clarke isn’t so certain of that. But at her son’s pleading, she doesn’t have the heart to dismiss his request entirely. For Aden, she justifies to herself, she would have to at least try. “I promise.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Japan was amazing, I had such a good time.  
> I know I'm an evil person, first I post late, now I leave the story on such a note. But not to worry, my friends, I promised the M-rated content in the next chapter and I'm sticking to my schedule. 
> 
> Leave me a comment or kudos, I really appreciate them! I will see you very soon :)


	9. Held you for a little while (my oh my oh my)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prophesied M-rated chapter. Fluff and feels.

**Chapter 9  Held you for a little while (my oh my oh my)**

 

June 27 th 2015

Aden presses his little face on the window of his mother’s truck, leaving a cheek-shaped print on the spotless glass. It is Finn’s weekend. He watches the backing scenery in a contemplative mind, as contemplative as a 7 year old can be, that is. 

Clarke gingerly steals some glances at him, and sees that he has her headphones in, which has become a common occurrence since Lexa stops hanging around that much. She tries to strike up a conversation, so she taps him on the shoulder, “Aden, what are you listening to?” 

He shrugs, “just some old songs, Lexa…” he stops, and gauges her reaction for a second, then finishes his sentence in a whisper, “showed me on the internet.” 

“Play it out for me? I want to know what’s got the two of you so hooked.” She tries to sound amused, as normal as she can at the sound of Lexa’s name. 

“Really!?” His eyes brighten, beautiful baby blues sparkling with hope. 

It’s an expression she recognizes. Something she used to see in the mirror, staring back at her. 

He claps his hands a little, promptly plugging the device into the truck’s radio system. He skips the one that is playing in the middle, and the album jumps to what seems to be the sixth song of the track. 

A flick of bass guitar that first dips then rises at the first sound of drum, followed by the soft splash of bluesy piano, starts Leonard Cohen’s whispery baritone, frayed by growly, grainy edges and bluesman gravitas: 

_“Wasn’t hard to love you, didn’t have to try; wasn’t hard to love you, didn’t have to try. Held you for a little while, my oh my oh my; held you for a little while, my oh my oh my…”_

The playful, fruity push of trumpets, and the sweet harmonic female backing vocals give the song a sultry undertone. 

Clarke clenches her fists tighter on the steering wheel. Her palms quiver as they gradually remember how Lexa’s body feels. 

_“Drove you to the station, never asked you why; drove you to the station, never asked you why. Held you for a little while, my oh my oh my; held you for a little while, my oh my oh my…”_

The lyrics tell a simple, heart-wrenching love story. Weary, but optimistic, suffering, but gratified, his hymn-like husk has a remarkable way of making sadness sound triumphant, and triumph sad. 

Thrilling chill climbs swiftly up her hands, her wrists, elbows, and hits straight and square at the tender spot behind her breastbone. She craves the warmth of another’s body wrapped around hers, not just any other’s. 

She hears tearing of her heart reverberate in the back of her skull. The throbbing intensifies as the melody fades away, and morphs into another masterpiece. Only then she starts to recognize the streets as she pulls close to Finn’s house, and only then she finds her vision blurred by a thin coat of fog that taints her eyelashes wet. 

Aden has gone quiet, as if he realizes he is witnessing a very vulnerable moment that belongs to his mother. He presses his face on the window, and watches the backing scenery. 

 

Finn is washing his father’s BMW in the front yard of a luxuriously ornamented town house, where he lives with his parents. It pleases him very much to know that the car will soon be his when the old man gets his hands on a brand new Lincoln MKS. He admires the polished bumpers, shinny enough to present a distorted reflection of his face. The sound of an old truck steals his attention away, he watches as Clarke pulls into the driveway behind him. Dirty tires kick up the mud that is stuck in their grooves as the truck comes to a sharp halt. A speck of dirt smudges his proud handiwork. His brows immediately knit together into a tight knot. “Hey!” 

Aden is in the mid of jumping down. He lands a little wobbly on his feet. “Hi dad.” He greets his father timidly. 

“Aden, come over here.” Finn gestures the boy to his side, and points at the imperfection on the soon-to-be-his car. “Clean this up, I’m washing the other side.” 

“Okay.” Aden obeys his order without protesting, knowing it will not have any effect. 

Finn grins in satisfaction. He looks over to the truck, where his ex-wife is sitting behind wheels. In the light, he can’t really see Clarke’s face, but the shadow figure seems to be extremely still, with no intention of getting out. So he walks over, snapping the towel on his shoulder, “hey hey hey, we’re gonna order pizza later, wanna stay for dinner?” 

It is then Clarke takes a deep breath. Her hands release the steering wheel, and feel for the buckle of her safety belt. And the moment her feet touch the ground, and hot, dusty summer air grazes the side of her face, her heart’s loud thudding drowns away, a cold sense of composure washes over her. 

Finn stops fast in his track. The blue gaze that rests upon him has lost its usual muted apprehension, instead it freezes over. 

“Aden, go back inside and finish the math problems first. I’ll see you Sunday, baby.” She relieves the boy of the chore, and watches him disappear into the house before acknowledging the man. “You know what, Finn, it’s not gonna work anymore.” Clarke slams shut the door, and shoves Aden’s bag of clothes into his chest. There is a fierceness burning high in the base of her throat. She’s almost certain that she is breathing fire. “I figured it out, you don’t want full custody any more than I want you to have it. You can try to take Aden, Finn, but I will fight you—”

“Okay, okay, calm down, Clarke.” Finn is sweating beads now. He lives in a fairly populated town, and many of the neighbors are peering through windows or fences to watch the scene unfurl. He reaches out to her arms. 

“I will fight you, and your family’s lawyer.” She slaps away his hands. “I am a _damn_ _good_ mother!” 

He looks around the streets. “Okay, just…” 

She takes a glance at the onlookers, “I am a good mother, you know that. _Everybody_ knows that. You wanna go back to court, you just tell me when. Otherwise, stay the hell out of my life!” She points her finger at his face, and feels incredibly liberated to see he gulp down his own spit. 

She leaves without so much of a bored glance at him. As she backs the truck away, Clarke spares a look of her reflection in the rear-view mirror. Bright, hopeful blue eyes stare back at her. 

 

Lexa wraps up her first half of the day. She stands under the shower head in the tool shed, scrubbing her hands. The water is icy to the bones, effectively ridding her skin of dirt. Her fingers are red and cold, her forearms numb, but she has long lost sense of time and space, scrutinizing her hands in a trance as if they are not attached to her joints anymore. She is stalling, Lexa faintly registers, she is stalling because she doesn’t want to leave yet, she is stalling because she just wants to sneak one glimpse at a certain blonde as she returns home. 

Clarke frantically dashes through the kennel. She almost believes that Lexa had already taken off, until she hears running water coming from behind the barn. 

Thick, long brown hair in small braids fall over one shoulder, creating a curtain, Lexa doesn’t see the woman step into the small cube and lean against the door frame. 

Blue eyes travel, from the clear muscle definition on a slender arm, following a singular vein thatdiverges into branches at the inner crease of the elbow, to a long hand, then calloused fingers. Clarke pretty much feels them on her body, as warm as they are demanding, as soft as they are strong, as tender as they are rough. She doesn’t want to startle the woman, so she clears her throat to make her presence known, “ahem…” 

Still, it snaps Lexa out of her daze. She withdraws her hands in reflex, and backs away from the cold splash for a few steps. Water is dripping down her fingertips as she stands, looking like she just barely came back to earth. 

The confusion and perplexity on her face is endearing. Clarke tucks her lower lip in between her teeth to bite down a grin. “Sorry.” She smoothes out a strand of hair behind her ear to look less disheveled. 

“Clarke.” Lexa schools her expression to be painfully neutral. “What is it?” She sweeps her hair behind her shoulder, and pretends to be busy cleaning imaginary stains from a water bowl, trying to quell the embarrassment from being caught off guard. 

The indifference has become constant, familiar, but it doesn’t mean it can’t sting, its hidden edge still sharp as ever. “You’ve been avoiding me.” Clarke can’t help if her voice is teary. 

“Well, what do you expect…?” 

A simple question, but it leaves her speechless. This is so much harder than she thought, Clarke sighs, “Aden has been asking if you’d like to join us for dinner again, sometime.” 

“That’s very sweet of him.” Lexa throws back a glance, but immediately regrets doing so. Cerulean waters are full to the brim, and everything inside her twists up with a compulsive urge to defend, to hold, to protect, to love. But that compulsion has gotten her hurt enough, she needs to defend and protect herself for a change. “You and I both know it’s probably not a good idea.” 

“Maybe, maybe not.” 

“…” Lexa is slightly irritated by the cryptic conversation, “what do you mean?” 

“Finn…” Clarke sees her scowl at the mention of his name, “I told him to fuck off. He has no right to take away my son.” A long silence descends, as if Lexa doesn’t hear her. The scrubbing continues for a minute too long, her heart sinks with every second. 

The water is cold, and she feels every bit of it. “Well, good for you.” Lexa dismisses the sudden giddiness that bubbles dangerously in the space between her chest and her tummy. It shouldn’t be this easy, to disarm her, to make her bare the softest part, to surrender her heart. 

“Are you mad at me?” 

“No.” _What kind of question_. Lexa frowns, her patience wearing thin. 

Clarke speculates, “I think you are. It’s obvious you’re mad, don’t lie about it.” 

“Again, what do you expect?” The bowl slips out of her fumbling hands, making a loud clank on the rim of the sink. She whips around, anger rising. She hopes Clarke would cut the crap, get to the point and leave her alone, before she outbursts and makes things awkward. 

Clarke flinches, but quickly recovers because she understands where that anger came from. Everything she’s done, has been unfair to the marine officer, and anyone, even as kind and gentle as Lexa, has their bottom line. She is about to apologize, when Lexa beats her to it. 

Hands raised in the air, Lexa shakes her head, “I’m sorry. I’m not… it’s not my place to judge. You’re a mother, of course you make hard decisions. It’s okay, I’m over it.” She mulls and revises the last part, turning her back to the blonde again so she doesn't have to look her in the eye. “I’m trying, to get over it. So please, Clarke, leave me alone, coz it takes time.” 

“You are trying to get over me?”

“Yes,” _and it’s so fucking hard I don’t know if it’s possible_ , “I’ll get there. You should too, forget about this, whatever it was.” 

“But I don’t want to.” Comes a breathy reply. 

Rapid padding rushes toward her. Lexa turns around, only to have a soft body slam into hers. Slender arms circle her into a warm embrace, and steady fingers thread into her hair. A pair of keen lips seals her voice. Without the strength to protest in a single fiber of her being, she accepts the kiss, greedily, passionately, wholeheartedly and mercilessly sucking on the fervid flesh, deepening their frantic connection. Her hands, still freezing cold, lock around Clarke’s waist. 

“I don’t want you to get over me.” Clarke whispers in between nips and licks. 

Lexa moans loudly, and stumbles back into the water. Cold shower cascades down, instantly drenching the two. Clarke shrieks, and pushes themselves out, but she tumbles over and drags the brunette down on top of her. 

“Are you okay?” Lexa braces herself on her elbow. 

Nodding, Clarke strokes the woman’s face, “yeah I’m okay.” Her muddy hand paints several dirty streaks on the beautiful cheek. She bursts out in laughter, “oops.” 

Lexa catches the hand that continues to smear mud on her face. She is laughing too. 

All of the tension, guilt, and anger dissolve into fits of giggles. They laugh together, laugh at each other, laugh at themselves. It doesn’t die down for quite a bit, until both of them have aches in their stomach and burning in their lungs. Then they are heaving to recover, then they just look at each other, with smiles in their eyes and fire in their chests. 

“I’m sorry for grabbing you like that, I wasn’t thinking.” Clarke speaks first. 

It is Lexa who dips her head and reconnects their lips this time. Albeit losing the touch of desperation, the kiss still builds in momentum. It gains a flaming desire, a soaking heat, and a powerful need. She shifts on top of the blonde, soon finds herself comfortable with pelvis nestled in between Clarke’s thighs. A soft hand sneaks up from under her t-shirt, finger pads gliding over her abs and ribs. She tears her mouth away, to latch onto the supple skin of Clarke’s neck, nosing at the fluttering pulse point. 

Clarke mewls in pleasure. Under her palm, she feels bones shift and muscles ripple, and indulges in the touch of smooth skin. Her hips roll up of their own accord, to meet the solid body above. 

Lexa grinds down into the moist heat that seeps through layers of clothes. The legs on either side of her squeeze tighter in response. She can almost hear her arousal that starts to pull taunt at the base of her spine. 

“Lex…” Clarke lets out a guttural groan, at the brief brush of her sensitive core against convulsing muscles. When a hand finally slips in from the top of her shorts, she thinks she might lose it right there. 

Lexa takes her time exploring. Her fingers skirt the edge of Clarke’s underwear, then caress the exposed skin of those creamy thighs. Finally, painstakingly, her index finger arrives in the middle to trace down the slit in the middle, the heel of her palm presses down to the apex. The texture and temperature of the liquid spreading on her fingertip is unmistakable. “Oh my god…” she whispers, “you’re so wet…” By the trashing and shivering, just a little longer, Lexa thinks to herself, she will send her right over the fringe of ecstasy—

“Ow ow…” Clarke suddenly cries out. A particularly violent shudder had her knock her shin right onto the edge of a shovel hanging from the wall. The sharp pain jerks her out of the pleasurable act. 

Lexa stills, then rolls off without delay. She helps the blonde up to her feet, and drops a soothing kiss on the golden hair. 

A quick scan around the shed, Clarke realizes it is not really an ideal place for people to be fooling around. “You’ve got some dangerous tools here, Ms Woods.” 

“I live on the edge.” Lexa shrugs. She takes the sprinkler off and rinses down the mud on herself—she’s already soaked anyways. 

Clarke wipes her hands clean on Lexa’s clothes, giggling with mischief. When Lexa turns to her with an evil smirk, she warns, “Lexa, no.” 

“Lexa yes…” She stalks over and captures the blonde in one arm, the other holds up the shower head above themselves. 

Clarke is ready to scream when the water hits her back, but to her surprise, it is lukewarm instead of chilling. She just jabs weakly at Lexa’s midriff as punishment. As a gentle hand squeezes water out the end of her ponytail, she is nibbling at the woman’s fleshy earlobe. “Let’s get out of here.” 

Lexa doesn’t say anything, just quickly turns off the water. A pretty blush stretches across her cheeks. 

 

They go out hand in hand, trading kisses and touches all the way to their truck. Lexa tries to be a law-abiding driver and focuses on the road, face scrunched up in concentration. So adorable, Clarke thinks, that she can’t help but teases her a little, short nails scratching along the toned arm. It draws a low grunt from the perfectly shaped lips. How wonderful, how torturous. 

Lexa stops in front of her cabin. Her hand finds Clarke’s, locking their fingers. “I’m sorry I lied.” She says in a whisper, “there’s no getting over you,” and brings their linked hands to her lips, dusts feathery kisses on each knuckle. 

It is the simplest gestures Lexa does that always make her heart swoon. Clarke leans over to the driver’s side and awards the woman a long, heartfelt kiss. They share it slowly, unhurriedly. With all the tenderness in the world. 

The moment is interrupted, when a cold, wet nose nudges at her lower back. Clarke yelps, whipping around only to find Hades’ smily face poking in from the window and panting up at her. “Oh my goodness, Hades! Where’d you come from?” 

“Saw him hop on the back when we left the farm.” Lexa pops her side of the door, and rounds to the car to open the door for Clarke. “Hades, please stay out?” She gestures at the makeshift porch where some of his toys are strewn haphazardly across the surface. 

He runs happily to the squeaky ball that fits perfectly in his mouth, expectantly looking at the women, tail thumping loudly. Clearly misinterpreted Lexa’s request as an invitation to play. 

“Oh buddy… umm…” Scratching the back of her head, Lexa blushes and glances between his pleading puppy eyes, and Clarke’s intent and earnest blue gaze, “sorry Hades, I was gonna say give us some privacy. We’ll play later… tomorrow. I promise.” With that, she tugs at the blonde’s hand toward her house. 

Hades whines through his snout and crooks his head to the side, silently protesting this unfair treatment from his human. 

Clarke places her palm on her chest, “aww, let me borrow her for one night. Thank you.” Then she is guided into the threshold, for the first time, stepping into where Lexa lives and sleeps. This makes her giddy for many reasons. 

They don’t kiss and fumble in passion. They take their time. 

One foot in front of the other, Clarke moves a few paces leisurely into the small rooms. There’s a small, personal touch of Lexa’s charisma in everything that occupies the space. The narrow countertop is stainless, boxes of cereal and jars of jam are arranged by brands. The cabinets are missing a few doors, revealing bowls and plates stacked neatly. A fridge is squeezed in the corner, a floor lamp by the old armchair, no tv, but a laptop is placed in the center of the wooden table. There is a nightstand, same wood as the table, that has a lamp and a pile of books on it. 

Neat doesn’t suffice in describing the room. _Precise_ , Clarke decides on the word. 

Then her eyes land on the bed. 

It’s somewhat off-size, the frame is too big for a twin but not big enough for a double. The mattress sits awkwardly across the structure and an extension supported by two stumps, like an oversized baby in a small stroller. 

“I made it… after, after the spring bed broke…” Lexa fidgets at the mosquito net, smoothing out invisible wrinkles on the material that is hung on four poles over the bed. She didn’t get a chance to clean up for a guest visit, but at least she has the habit of making her bed every morning. But even though with all her possessions flawlessly placed in their designated spots, she feels nervousness pulse through her veins. 

Clarke forgets about the furniture and comforter and pillows, she focuses her attention solely on the brunette. That usually confident, courageous, composed woman who can lead a platoon of marines to war zone, is now a shy lover. Strangely, she understands that shyness. 

How long has it been for Lexa? 

How long has it been for herself? 

A swell of protectiveness rises in her heart. It grows bigger, and stretches further, to envelope that raw vulnerability in timid green eyes. 

“Lexa,” her voice is barely louder than a whisper, “come here.” 

Lexa goes willingly. The distance diminishes between their bodies as her desire returns, burning higher and hotter. She touches her hands on the blonde’s cheeks, thumb tracing careful lines across the glistening bottom lip. “Clarke…” the name comes out as something akin to a prayer, bigger than the word itself, bigger than any emotion or expression in the scarcity of the English vocabulary. She joins their lips together, and is immediately rewarded by a soft tongue stealing into her mouth. The validity of their connection is instantly solidified. 

They back into the split of the mosquito net, knees and elbows bumping into the mattress, toeing off shoes on the way. Their clothes are still uncomfortably wet. 

“Take my shirt off.” Clarke rasps, and moans into Lexa’s mouth when strong hands push up her top. They only part from their kiss to get rid of her clothes, which meet the ground in a wet thump. 

Lexa cautiously moves to her jean shorts, tapping at the front button in a silent question. As soon as Clarke nods her permission, nimble fingers pop open the catch and tug down the zipper. She moves aside to help the blonde struggle out of her shorts, then kneels back in between her thighs, raveling in the sight of the woman in her undergarments. She is absolutely fascinated, at the flash of crimson that climbs up from the pale skin over breastbone to the base of fleshy earlobes. 

Under the ardent gaze, Clarke squirms, keenly aware that her body isn’t what it used to look like. She peeks down at her bra-clad breasts. They are still full and soft, but have lost their pertness of the early twenties glory. There are permanent blemishes and stretch marks on her stomach, muscles slackened due to childbirth. (Aden was a pretty big baby who stubbornly stayed inside her body for an entire week over his due date). Her hands draw up in an halfhearted attempt to cover herself. 

Green eyes shine with fondness. Lexa doesn’t mention her slight disappointment to lose sight of naked skin. She wordlessly sheds her own shirt and trousers to fix the imbalance of nudity. 

It takes her mind off her coyness. Blue eyes are wide as they scan up the magnificent figure newly revealed. Her fingers itch for a touch. 

Lexa happily accepts the soft hand that brushes across her abdomen. 

Clarke is struck by the sensation of muscles bunching up under her palm. But what is even more powerful, is when her fingertip catches an uneven patch of skin that wraps around the bottom few ribs just below her bra. It’s unmistakably a burn mark. Clarke knows at that moment, that she will continue to find scars in places she’s never seen before. She will, because Lexa is letting her. Lexa is opening up to her. A rush of emotion makes her slur her words, “sweetheart… you’re so… you’re so beautiful.” Forgotten is the worry about showing her body. Clarke runs her hands on Lexa’s forearms, and intertwines their fingers. 

Affectionate green eyes smile down at her. “So are you, Clarke.” Lexa bends down to kiss her again, every stroke of hot tongue and wet flesh and warm breaths. Each praising moan is swallowed with zeal as if she is just discovering the flavor of sweetness. But Lexa knows the virtue of enjoying things in moderation. She strays away from Clarke’s lips, kissing a trail from her jaw to the side of her neck. Then sternum. Then she loiters around at the top of her bra. 

“Go ahead…” Clarke lets up her tight grip on the brunette’s hands. She bucks up to let the slender hand find the clasp of her bra. 

Lexa follows her command reverently. 

Clarke finds it adorable, how the brunette doesn’t let herself fully take in the naked view before drawing the straps down her each arm and placing the article of clothing away. But her chuckle dies in the back of her throat, when dark, hungry pupils land on her again.

Lexa palms the shapely breasts in her hands, and thumbs at the pink peaks. 

A stream of lust trickles down to her lower belly warmly, and seeps through her underpants. Clarke heaves, feeling her nipples hardening. Her hand shoots up to get a hold of the thick brown locks. She invites Lexa for a taste. 

And to say Lexa is ravenous would be an understatement. She puckers up her lips and suckles on without protest. She licks and nips and pinches and squeezes. The flat of her tongue flicks over the sensitive tip, the edge of her teeth outlines the rosy circles. Her hands are not idle either. They travel the length of a pliable body, and massage at the supple skin in various places. 

“Uh… mmm… Lex, please…” Clarke tucks her bottom lip in between her teeth at the pleasurable pressure that arrives on the inside of her thighs. 

Lexa releases the breast with a delightful pop. “Please what?” A finger dips into the hem of Clarke’s panties. Hips immediately buck up to coax her to go deeper. So she obliges, hand sliding in the front of lacy material. Past a soft triangular patch of hair, she finds the silky liquid heat that instantaneously drenches her fingertips. 

Clarke hisses through clenched jaw. She lifts herself off from the mattress and pushes down the last piece of garment that separates them. “Lexa, please get this off.” 

“Easy, here, let me.” The brunette hushes her. A mischievous sense to tease takes form in her head. She slips down the sensuous body in an excruciatingly leisure pace, kissing and licking every inch of skin on the way. Her nose digs into soft places and generous curves, as she tries to commit the scent to her memory. Her tongue dips in a cute belly button, then makes a detour to one hipbone like a snail. The point of her chin toys with the short golden bush. Her hands snake around to fondle the full ass cheeks. 

Clarke is trashing around. She is on the verge of explosion, she can barely contain the need to gyrate her hips and grind her cunt on Lexa’s face. “Lexa… please, Lex… I need you.” She whines, her nails raking through luscious brown hair. Small braids come undone. 

This is all she’s ever wanted. To worship. They have all the time in the world. Lexa loops her arms around Clarke’s legs, and holds her gently. Her breath is taken away by the sight that greets her. The pink, glistening slit is slightly parted open, and an engorged, excited clit is peeping out from under the hood. Unable to hold herself back, she places a lingering kiss on the bundle of nerves. 

“Oh shit…!” Clarke cries out. Tingles travel up to her spine and reach all her limbs. She has to grasp on the headboard to pin herself down on the bed. 

Lexa plants a chain of strategic nips on Clarke’s left thigh, and then right. “Ready?” She murmurs soothingly. 

“Yessss…” 

Firm tongue zones in on the swollen clit, and plump lips wrap it into a hot mouth. Green eyes roll back in bliss as the tangy, musky, salty, silky nectar hits her tastebuds. 

“Fuck! Lexa… Lexa…” Moans fall into rhythm with every swipe and every flick. Clarke doesn’t even care at this point how she must be dripping. She feels wet, wet, wet. Wet in between her legs, wet on her cheeks, wet in her bones. It isn’t just the carnal pleasure that gives her this wet feeling. It’s knowing that her lover is equally enjoying the act. She knows, by the vibration set low in Lexa’s throat, grunting sweet nothing into her body, and by the slurping sounds that will make the most sexually experienced person blush. So when she notices a finger that probes around her entrance, she lets herself enjoy it fully, too. “Please, inside me.” 

Dutifully, the brunette gathers enough slick to coat her digits. Then she slides in her middle finger. The reaction is positive and sensual. Clarke’s calves clench around her, and her thighs seem to open up wider. “It’s okay, Clarke… I’ve got you.” She promises. 

A second finger is added, and gracefully pushes against her front wall. Clarke yelps in delight. “Oh god! Yes Lexa… Right here…” 

“Yeah?” The motion is repeated. 

“Yeah! Yeah! Harder. Fas-faster…” Lifting her hips in the air, Clarke claws at the brown mop of curls until the skillful tongue is pressed against her clit once again. All of a sudden, her senses become hypersensitive. She hears the squeaking in the bedposts. It joins the squishy, watery thrusts in and out of herself in a symphony of love making. She sees stars bursting behind her eyelids. She smells sweat, and deodorant, and Lexa’s shampoo, and the dirty scent of sex mixing in the hot summer air. “Oh shit, I’m coming…” she first whispers, as if still shy, but her voice grows in volume, “I’m coming, Lexa! Fuck, I’m gonna…” 

She increases her speed with her hand, and the force of her tongue. The body under her is coiled tight. Any moment, she thinks, it would snap apart from orgasm like a rubber band. She steadies her hold. It is when the string of pretty profanities merges in a long cry, she feels Clarke still. 

Then it is a wild, fierce, primitive, uncontrollable fit of twitches and shivers and spasms. And it was _everywhere_. Her fingers are nearly pushed out by the tight warmness that squeezes down so powerfully. Lexa has to massage Clarke’s thigh and lower belly to help her ride out the peak without straining her muscles. And the flood of pure ecstasy seems to never end. Not that she’s complaining. Lexa savors the very last drop. 

It still stops though, at some point after her hyperventilation stops. “Oh my goodness… Lex, that was…” 

Lexa smiles to herself, pleased and proud, until she looks up. She startles. Immediately, she climbs up the blonde’s naked body. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Her thumb wipes at the shiny stream that escapes down the side of flushed cheeks, leading to her ears. “Did I hurt you? Did I… did I do something?” 

Only then does she realize that she had been tearing up. “No, oh no no no, Lexa.” Clarke’s voice is scratchy, but her eyes are glossy. “You are amazing… it was amazing. I guess, I guess I was just overwhelmed. In a good way.” Her limbs are heavy, and feeble, like lead injected in jelly. She still reaches out to pull the woman in for a kiss. 

“Good,” the brunette relaxes, and eases herself back into the embrace. 

A moan catches in her chest, she tastes herself on Lexa’s tongue. It’s such a thrilling experience. New, sexy, and so, so intimate. Chest to chest, hips against hips, legs in a tangle. She drags her hands down the woman’s back, counting each rib and dip of her spine, finding two little dimples just above the swell of her butt, then cupping the firm cheeks. 

Lexa grinds down on instinct. The throbbing has become unbearably prominent, as her attention is no longer fully occupied by pleasing the blonde. She is now keenly aware of how _drenched_ she is. The bottom of her boxers clings to her core. She doesn’t have to look to know there must be a dark stain on the grey material. And she is beyond shy. 

The powerful body above her is moving in such a delicious fashion. Clarke feels her nipples stiffen again with the friction. Her clit too. She unabashedly rolls her pelvis, to rub against Lexa’s thigh. Oh it’s such a wonderful thigh too, muscular, taunt, flexing at all the right moments. The fact that they are kissing sloppily, and dry humping like a couple of horny teenagers, brings out another kind of lust. More desperate it builds. More arousing it becomes. 

“Uh…” A tiny gasp.

So Clarke learns that Lexa is quiet when she comes. All small squirms and breathy sighs. Face burying into the crook of her neck. Chestnut curls tickling her nose. She finds it endearing, also pretty goddamn hot. Her own second orgasm follows, and snatches the tail of her first high. It crashes over her like the strong body that slackens on top of hers. She holds Lexa tight. 

They pant in sync. Not moving or kissing, only trying to catch their breaths. Their bodies are coated with a thin film of sweat, basked in a glorious stickiness and exhaustion. 

_Grrrrrrffff_

There is a little ruffling from outside that catches their drifting attention. Two big ears and a pair of small black eyes peep inside. Then a snout sniffs up and down. Then clawing at the wood door frame.

“Hades, noooo…” Lexa whines. What an inopportune time for him to throw a tantrum. “Well, this is embarrassing. Should’ve left him at the farm, had no idea he’s gonna cock-block me like this.” 

Clarke lets our a giggle. She pushes gently at the brunette’s arm, “it’s okay, let him in. He sounds very concerned.” 

“Yeah, from all that screaming.” Lexa winks, and receives a swat on her shoulder, “heyyy…” 

“You’re the one who made me scream, silly.” She admires the blush on the tanned cheeks. 

“Right… are you thirsty? I’ll… um, Hades, come in boy.” Lexa whistles at the door. Soon paws clatter on the floor. 

Hades scouts around, sniffing at the smell of spent passion, which baffles him. 

Lexa rolls up reluctantly, and ties the mosquito net apart. “See? She’s fine, we’re all fine. There wasn’t any murdering happening. Now would you please get us a bottle of water?” She points at the fridge, and repeats, “water.” 

He runs to retrieve the item, but brings a beer instead. Reassured that his human is doing okay despite her suspicious activities earlier, he loses interest in their complex human language conversation. 

Clarke is now laughing, thrashing on the comforter. 

“Hey, he’s very well trained, I probably just don’t have bottles of water stocked.” Lexa scratches behind his ears, “beer is good too, right?” 

“Beer is good too.” 

They share, taking turns sipping at the cool beverage. But soon, indirect kisses stolen off the lip of the bottle are not enough. They crave to be near each other again. Lexa sets down the drink, and Clarke cradles her. Their kiss is lazy and languid, tasting alcohol off of each other. 

When the kiss breaks, Lexa is so comfortably warm and relaxed. Heaviness that had held her head under water for the past week has let up. Her each breath is now free, invigorated, happy. 

They are not drunk, but they might as well be. 

Lexa smiles to see the blonde stifle a yawn. Fluffiness fills her heart. And her heart soars even higher when Clarke musters up all her strength to roll themselves over and says, “I want to make you feel as good as you made me.” 

“You already do.” 

Clarke points out, “you’re still in your bra and boxers.” 

“I know.” 

“You’re a dork.” 

“It can wait, what I really want right now, is a nap.” Lexa stretches, then curls on herself like a cat. 

“I suppose we do have all day.” Clarke shrugs when the brunette gives her a questioning look, “what? I own the farm, I give you permission to take an afternoon off. Now turn over.” 

Lexa quirks one brow, “I’m the little spoon?” 

“You’re the one who wanted a nap.” 

Grinning, Lexa doesn’t mention it was Clarke who’s just yawned. She just complies. 

Clarke doesn’t let it show, but giddiness is bursting in pink, heart-shaped cartoonish bubbles. She watches the rises and falls of Lexa’s body, caresses the flat stomach under her palm, and inhales the intoxicating scent of a mixture of shampoo, grass, earth, and Lexa. 

_I could love her._. The thought pops up in her head, when blue eyes are falling shut. She struggles to reopen them and look at Lexa one more time. To feel the heartache at the sight of scars that decorate her back. To appreciate the delicate ink work that merges so perfectly with the scars. To just make sure. To tell herself. _Well, maybe it’s still too early to pop the four-lettered words. But yeah, it wouldn’t be hard to love her_. 

She slips into a simple dream of brown and green. The radio keeps replaying one song, in Leonard Cohen’s grainy, growly tone: _“Wasn’t hard to love you, didn’t have to try; wasn’t hard to love you, I didn’t have to try. Held you for a little while, my oh my oh my; held you for a little while —”_

_My oh my oh my…_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like... Leonard Cohen is such a gem???  
> Well, tell me what you think of it. And trust me I'm not done. Even though Lexa is clearly selfless and generous in bed, Clarke isn't a pillow princess either. The other half of mushy smut will come.

**Author's Note:**

> You can expect an update every other Friday, starting with this upcoming one.  
> I will try my best to stick to the biweekly schedule.  
> Feedbacks are appreciated, yell at me for my stupid mistakes if you so desire, anything is welcome  
> Give me a holler on Tumblr: https://dat-asian-female-adventurer.tumblr.com/


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